The Gypsy's Siren
by rika08
Summary: Beacon Hills first Romanian Gypsy festival is about to begin. A caravan of families bringing their skills into town; and their secrets. When one of the gypsies is found dead, the Pack uncovers the dark side of the gypsy life, and the key to maintaining peace between the gypsies and the pack is an outcast. (better inside I swear. first TW fanfic)
1. Once Upon A Camaro

An aggravated sigh escaped Derek Hale's mouth as he waited in the blazing heat at a red light. He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, eyes glaring at the unresponsive, mocking, red light. In all his time in Beacon Hills, Derek had made it his business to **avoid** this one particular light. The damn thing was known for being the longest light in all of Beacon Hills. No matter how far out of the way, any detour was worth it, if only to avoid the agony of the longest light. A light that hardly had any traffic to require a light even. A stop sign would have been more appropriate. A stop sign would even be faster than the damn light and save everyone stuck behind him the aggravation they were feeling now.

Sweat rolled down the side of his face beneath the bands of his sunglasses. It slowly worked down the back of his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. Derek gave a low growl and turned up the AC. He had a decent tolerance to heat and cold, but even a werewolf bod had its limits. He adjusted the vents, redirecting the cold air directly over his face. He sighed, momentarily revealed from the heat. He leaned back in his seat and let his eyes drift back to the, still red, light ahead. Just above the light was a brightly colored banner, and the reason why most of Beacon Hills traffic was stuck at the worst light; Beacon's hill's first Gypsy Festival.

One week of main street blocked off for traveling gypsy's to entertain the people for money. Fake palm readers, overpriced trinkets, provocative dancers, all for their entertainment. The main street was already bustling with the set up form the caravan's arrival last night. Derek had driven past and witnessed the large group set up their stands, some even used smaller wagons, authentic looking gypsy wagons, made of wood and painted in vibrant colors. One glance was enough to suffice his brief moment of curiosity, whatever happened down town this week, he wasn't going to be a part of it.

A honk echoed behind Derek. He glanced into his rear mirror, watching the furious, no doubt hot, driver angrily gesture at him. Derek rolled his eyes and leaned against his arm, propped against his door. His thumb twitched anxiously against the wheel. "You can honk at me till that stick falls out of your ass, but it's not going to change any faster."

The driver, however, had other ideas. He honked his horn again, louder. The horn echoed through Derek's ears, making him cringe. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his shift began slipping through his control. The heat had shortened his already short temper. Derek took a deep breath and opened his eyes. In the mirror, he watched his blue eyes slowly shift back to green. He loosened his grip on the wheel as he regained control. He glanced down the empty road, wondering if the ticket he would receive was worth it to escape the asshole behind him. Another horn was slowly proving the ticket would be worth it. Derek gripped the wheel with both hands and prepared to run the red light.

The sound of the horn was suddenly cut off by the familiar sound of a motorcycle engine pulling up along side the Camaro. Curious, Derek looked out his passenger mirror. To say that he was impressed who be a mild understatement. A pristine, white Honda VFR1200F DCT rolled to a stop on his right. The bike was a work of art, completely custom designed off the base model, and well maintained. The V-4 engine roared under the rider, who wore a dark crimson leather jacket. Their face was completely concealed beneath the white visor helmet. Derek had opted out of his leather jacket because of the heat, but he could imagine how the biker felt wearing the helmet, gloves, boots, jacket, and jeans in the heat. But he couldn't bring himself to pity them. The rider revved the engine once more, pulling ahead just a fraction. Derek cocked one of his brows curiously. There was no way this rider was asking. Another rev told him otherwise; they wanted to race.

Derek turned his head to look back down the street. It was still empty and the damn light was still red. Not to mention the anal driver behind his car was beyond furious with the biker cutting him. Any other time, any other day, Derek would have ignored the taunt. He couldn't afford another confrontation with the Sheriff. But the revving of the motorcycle, the heat scorching against the pavement in front of him, the aggravating driver behind; Derek suddenly didn't give a damn about a ticket, or getting arrested for racing. He shut off the AC and rolled down both windows. Derek turned to face the biker and revved his engine to match. The biker nodded and turned toward the street light. Game on. Derek watched the red light, gripping the wheel tightly. He inhaled deeply, letting himself slip into focus. The battling roar of their engines spurred both vehicles a fraction ahead, drowning out the horn aggravated driver behind them.

The light changes, igniting the race. Both vehicles burned rubber as they tore from their spot, racing through the barren streets toward the outskirts of town, and leaving the aggravated driver in their wake. Derek easily shifted gears, spurring his car on. The RPM shot up with the speed, flooding the interior of the car with a gust of wind. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the red and white blur of the biker keeping up with him. They tore off through the street, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. Derek shifted again, increasing the gas further. To his right, the biker pulled ahead of him, tossing a glance in his direction. Derek smirked to himself and floored it. He pulled out ahead of the biker, guiding his car in front, and cutting them off. He watched through the rear mirror as the biker tried to maneuver around him, but every time Derek countered by moving with them. He caught the tilt of the white helmet in the mirror. Derek arched his brow curiously, clearing the biker wasn't having fun anymore, so what was he about to do? The biker headed left, causing Derek to follow suit. But as he veered to the left, the biker quickly veered right and gunned the bike. A flash of white sped back the passenger window as the biker pulled ahead.

"Sneaky." he chuckled to himself. He increased his speed and tried to pass, but taking a hint from Derek, the biker blocked each side from him. Derek eased up off the gas, trying not to rear end the biker. It wasn't a race anymore, but the last thing they needed was an accident three times over the speed limit.

They came upon the bend, nearly reaching the town limits. The white bike still holding the lead over Derek, weaving from side to side. Derek watched the weaving bike, waiting for his moment to move. As the bike veered to the right. Derek gunned it to the left. He shifted forward, catching the biker off guard. They reached the bend, both easing off the gas as they rounded the nearly blind corner. They cleared the corner as the biker pulled out in front again. Derek honked as he cleared, trying to signal the biker to stop. The biker waved in acknowledgment and began slowing down.

Suddenly a buck sprinted across the street, directly into the bikers path. Derek caught sight of the buck, but it was already too late. The buck bolted into the bikers path, catching the riders attention. The rider swerved to miss the buck, overshooting it dangerously. The bike veered in front of Derek while simultaneously breaking. The high pitch shrill of the Honda's break echoed through his ear. Derek quickly released the gas and moved for the brake, but his reflexes were too slow. The rear of the Honda and the front of the Camaro collided. The force spurred the bike ahead of the car and out of its continuing path, but the force launched the rider from the bike and onto the hood of Derek's car. Derek watched as the riders back slid up the hood to the windshield, trying to catching hold of anything. He moved quickly, flicking off his seat belt, and reached out the window. He caught hold of the riders gloved hand, stopping them from completely rolling off his car. The riders body turned along the hood, lying across it horizontally, blocking the windshield.

"HOLD ON!" Derek yelled. The wind whipped against his face and he leaned out the window.

The rider took hold of Derek's hand with their free hand, clutching tightly with both hands. Derek eased on the break, trying to slow down without tossing the rider. The car jutted forward, nearly doing just what he wanted to avoid. The rider slid forward, legs first, toward the front of the car, but Derek held on tight to the rider.

"Hold on!" He tried again, easing the speed down. Once more, the car jutted, but not as violently as before. Again he applied the break, easing the car to a steady stop. Slowly, the Camaro came to a stop in the middle of the road. Derek put the car into gear and shut the engine off. He released the riders arm and slid back into his seat. For a moment, neither Derek, nor the rider moved. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. He stared down at the wheel. That was too close. Way too close. His hands were shaking and his claws had shifted at some point during the event. Derek checked the mirror, but his face hadn't shifted, thankfully. What made him nervous was not knowing when, or if the biker had noticed at all. His eyes stayed on the rider, still lying on his hood. He watched as their chest quickly rise and fell, nearly matching his own breathing.

The biker suddenly sat up from the hood and kicked their legs over the side. Derek opened his door, keeping his eyes on the rider. They didn't seem injured or too shaken up. He pulled his aviator glasses from his face and tossed them aside. He climbed out, still breathing heavily. "You alright?"

The biker looked up at him. They reached for the helmet, pulling it from their head. A cascade of golden brown curls emerged from the confines of the helmet, falling down to the middle of the riders back, revealing a young woman no older than himself. The lightly tanned skin of her oval face was coated in a light sheen of sweat. Whether from the heat or the adrenaline of what had just occurred, Derek wasn't sure but he could see the droplets rolling down her distinct high cheekbones. She pushed back the long locks behind her ears, revealing numerous piercing trailing from her lobes up the cartilage. The variety ranged from studs, to hoops, and in industrial bar. Golden Honey eyes met his own, not betraying fear, or anger, or any emotion he would have suspected. She lowered her helmet onto the hood of his car, gently-he noted, before finally answering him.

"I'm fine." came the smooth accented voice. Australian, or British. Derek couldn't decipher which, but judging by the tan, he opted for the down under. "Thanks to you. You've got some impressive reflexes."

Derek shook his head. "Just the fight or flight response."

"Lucky for me you're not a '_flight'_ response." she replied with a slight smirk, folding her arms across her chest. "Or I'd be a good distance behind you with my bike."

Derek looked over his shoulder, for the first time seeing her bike behind them. Down the road, nearly one hundred yards, was her motorcycle. It was lying on its side, the front tire was still spinning. The engine had died to a low hum. There wasn't a sign of any broken parts of pieces from the crash littering the road, or any unusual sounds from the humming engine. As he stared at the toppled Honda, relief that the rider hadn't met with the same fate flooded through him. Seeing her body broken on the side of the road was not something he could live. He was already living with too much. "Think it'll still run?"

To his surprise, the woman gave a soft snort. "Oh sure. It's fine."

Derek looked back at the woman, giving her a questionable glance.

Her lips turned into a small smile. "Believe it or not, that bikes been through worse than this."

Derek gave a snort and looked back at the bike. He folded his arms in front of his chest and leaned against his door. As he stared at the bike, and back to the woman, he felt the notion to believe her. He shook his head and turned back to face her, shifting his body. "You make it a point to crash your bike?"

She arched a slender brow, giving him a condescending look. "Not _intentionally_."

Derek shrugged. "Well the way you talk about crashing, you make it sound like it happens quite a bit."

"It doesn't." she replied, picking her helmet up from the hood. "Despite the statistics of women and driving, I've only been in three accidents, and walked away from all." She walked past him toward her bike. Her boots echoed with each step across the road. Derek followed behind her, keeping a few feet of distance between them. He watched as the woman easily lifted her motorcycle and dropped the kickstand. She eased her bike to the side and knelt beside it.

Derek could sense he was approaching a touchy subject, not that he was surprise, most people believed they were good drivers; especially people who were not good drivers. This woman, was a good driver. She had handled her bike like a pro, maneuvering around each bend and his car with precision. The deer was just dumb luck.

"You need me to call anyone?" he offered.

The woman shook her head, sending her hair into tiny waves across her back. "Thanks, but no. I can manage back to town." She looked up at him from her bike, slowly rising to her feet. "I'm more worried about your car. Be a shame to have any dents or scratches in a car like yours."

Derek turned to his car and walked back. Truthfully, he hadn't been worried about his car. Yes the Camaro was the one procession he truly took care of, but her safety at the time had pushed back his concerns for his car in the moment. Derek walked around to the front of the hood and knelt down. His eyes scanned along every inch of the hood, searching for the tiniest scratch or dent. To his surprise, he couldn't find a hint of either.

"What do I owe you for damages?" she asked, coming up on the drivers door.

Derek stood up and placed his hands on the hood, meeting her gaze. He stared at her intense eyes, filled with concern. He felt a smile play at his lips. "It's not good."

Her facial expression grew apologetic.

Derek had to control his own expression as he continued. "The emotional damage from the crash alone isn't gonna come cheap."

Her brows arched. "_Emotional damage_?"

Derek nodded. "It's not everyday I have a rider slide across my car."

The woman stepped toward him. "Well it's not everyday a Camaro knocks me onto its hood., Her eyes drifted down to the hood, letting her eyes run over the undamaged metal. "and the car survives."

Derek let himself smirk at her.

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "You're an ass."

"I've been called worse." Derek replied with a smile.

"I believe it." She laughed, pushing herself off his car. She turned toward her bike and started back. She was only a few steps away when she turned around. "Although, I should say 'thank you'."

Derek arched his brow. "For what?"

She continued walking backward to her bike. "For saving me. And for showing a girl a good time."

"If you feel the need for another round, you can find me around." Derek smirked.

The woman mounted her bike. She picked up her helmet and turned to him with a seductive smirk. "I intend to." Her helmet slid over her face, containing her hair once more. She gripped the handles and kicked up the stand. With a quick rev, she took off back down the road toward Beacon Hills.

Derek watched the bike and rider until they vanished around the closest bend. The roar of the engine echoed around him, slowly growing fainter with the passing seconds. He pushed himself off the hood of his car, still smirking to himself, and walked around to his door. Derek climbed into his car and picked up his sunglasses. The engine roared to life beneath him, drowning out the fading sounds of the Honda. Derek shifted into gear and sped back toward town. As he rounded the first bend, his phone buzzed in his pocket. With a heavy sigh, he reached into his jeans and fished out his phone. His good mood quickly damped at the name on the screen

"Yeah?"

"_Where have you been?"_ It was Stiles. _"I've been calling for, like, twenty minutes!"_

"I was busy." Derek snapped at the hyper teen. "What do you want?"

"_Busy?" _Stiles repeated. _"What the hell could possibly-no. You know what, don't answer that. I don't wanna know the details."_

"What do you want?" Derek repeated.

"_We got pack business tonight."_ Stiles explained. _"Something about the gypsy's wanting to talk with the pack about being in the territory. I don't know. Deaton set up the meeting."_

"When?"

"_Tonight. Nine at the Lacrosse field."_

"Fine. I'll be there." Derek answered. He quickly ended the call before Stiles could waste anymore of his time. The kid had his moments, Derek wouldn't deny it, but his hyper active tendencies overruled the others. Derek shifted gears again and stepped on the gas, a small smile playing at his lips again.

* * *

okay so this is my first TW fanfic, so go easy. plus my editing skills suck.


	2. Gypsy Walker

With the setting of the sun, the high temperature of the summer day began to cool. The hustle and bustle of the upcoming festival died away with the light, as everyone who had a hand in them began to return home for the night. Hour by hour, with the fading sunlight, the people of Beacon Hills trickled off the streets and back to their own homes. The street lights illuminated the empty roads and parking lots. Beacon Hills High School was empty, save for three vehicles parked near the Lacrosse field. The pack, or those that were still in town for the summer, stood near the metal bleachers on the field. Stiles stood on the upper bench, pacing his hyperactive self from one fence to the other. His brown hair stuck of in the front from an overuse of gel. One of his many attempts to improve his _'attractability'_ toward the opposite sex. Scott sat on the bottom bleacher, staring at the ground. His elbows were propped up on his knees, which bounced against the ground. Deaton was seated a few feet from the nervous, sixteen year old Alpha,. His calm gaze shifted from Scott's nervous twitching, to Derek, who stood on the far side of the bleacher. He was propped up against the fence, keeping his eyes on the parking lot.

Derek sensed Deaton's stare on his back and looked over at the vet. Deaton held his gaze for a moment, before giving his head a slight tilt in Scott's direction. Derek let his eyes wander over to Scott. He watched the boys nervous twitch, counting the number of times Scott's foot hit the earth. Derek didn't need his senses to understand that Scott was nervous. This was his first meeting as the Alpha and half the pack was out of town.

"You shouldn't do that." Derek said, breaking the silence.

Stiles stumbled on the upper benches, shocked by the sudden voice. He hit the bench butt first and slid to the floor. Stiles mouthed his pain and stood up slowly. He glanced down to the others, but no one seemed to notice his blunder. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Scott glanced back in Stiles direction briefly, before turning his attention back to Derek. "Do what?"

Derek tilt his chin at Scott's knee. "You shouldn't shake like that."

"So I'm a little nervous. So what?"

"You're the Alpha, Scott. If meeting gypsies makes you nervous, what are going to do when something stronger comes along?" Derek asked.

Scott didn't answer. He lowered his head toward the ground and tried to keep his leg rom shaking. How could he not be nervous? He was a sixteen year old high school lacrosse playing trying to figure out how to balance normalcy while simultaneously keeping the town safe as a werewolf. Now he's sitting in the bleachers waiting for a group of gypsies for some unknown reason, acting as the Alpha for the pack. No, there was nothing to be worried about.

"Scott."

Scott looked up at Derek.

"You've already proven yourself as an Alpha." Derek explained. "Don't doubt yourself over this. They're just gypsies."

Scott nodded slowly. "Thanks Derek." He felt slightly encourage by Derek's words, because, well because Derek never really has positive things to say to anyone.

"Yeah, but gypsies can be dangerous." Stile piped up. "They could have charms or cast spells or stuff like that and-"

Derek rolled his eyes and kicked the bleachers. The entire structure shook, sending Stiles toppling on his ass once more. "Shut up, Stiles."

Stiles nodded. "Yep, got it. Shutting up."

"Why would gypsies want to meet with the pack?" Scott asked.

A series of engine rumbles echoed through the evening air, catching Scott and Derek's attention first. Both boys turned their heads toward the parking lot. Deaton and Stiles both turned their attention as well. The engines rumbled louder, three distinct types of engines, as they pulled into the parking lot. Five headlights came into view. Two trucks, heavy duty trucks by the sound of the diesel engines, and a ...a motorcycle. The lights came to a stop in the parking lot, the single set growing closer than the two trucks. One by one the engines and lights shut off, leaving the field in an eerie and anxious silence.

"We're about to find out." Derek answered, placing his hands into his pockets.

The doors opened and shut quickly, echoing for a brief number of seconds in the night. Scott stood up from the bleachers and moved to stand a few feet from Derek. He slipped his hands into his pockets and tried to calm himself further. Derek pushed himself off the bleacher frame post and folded his arms in front of his chest. He took a side glance at Scott, before turning his attention on the gypsies. If things went south, in most cases they did, they were need to act fast, better to be on offense than defense. Stiles staggered noisily to the ground behind them. The bleachers rattled beneath his heavily and clumsy steps. Deaton calmly stood from the bench and stepped in front of the pack.

The pack waited as the doors opened and shut as the drivers removed themselves from the trucks. A series of four different footsteps crossed the field from the parking lot. Four shadows, ranging in different height sand builds came into view. As the four gypsies drew nearer, Derek noticed something different. He glanced toward Scott, who shared in the discovery; There were only **three** scents. They kept their eyes trained on the four approaching figures. Two of the four matched Derek and Scott in height, one was taller, and the fourth was a head shorter than them. The shorter one was also a woman. Derek kept his eyes on the woman as the gypsies came into full light. They came to a stop ten feet from the pack, lined out with the woman in the center.

Each of the men had dark hair, but varied in length. The man directly across from Derek had short hair, only a few inches from his scalp. His face was square shape with bright brown eyes. He wore an open buttoned shirt, exposing his white tank beneath, and ripped faded jeans. He folded his muscular arms in front of his chest, mirroring Derek's stance. His eyes glared over each member of the pack, but gave Derek a menacing glance over more than the others.

To the man's right was the shorter of the men. His hair reached below his chin and hung in loose curls. His eyes matched his brothers in shade and color, along with his body shape. His toned muscled were visible through his tight blue tee. He stood erect like his brother, but withheld any hostile glances.

The final man stood to the woman's left. He was visibly the eldest of the four. His dark hair was straight, probably four inches longer than crew cut. His shape was slightly different from the others, a rounder face, less angular shaping, and less muscle. But he was fit nonetheless. He seemed neither threatened nor intimidated by the pack, but Derek noted that he was cautious, glancing between the pack the woman. His arms were folded loosely in front of his chest. His jeans were covered in dust and dirt, implying that he had been on the work crew during the day. His black tank had exposed him to the sun, allowing his skin to burn from exposure, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it.

The woman, was another...and familiar sight. She stood the shortest in height, but the tallest in position. Her crimson jacket was unzipped, exposing her light pink off the shoulder top to the cooling air. Her hair was once again loose behind her back, dancing in the occasional breeze. Her jeans clung to hips, making Derek wonder why he hadn't noticed them earlier, accenting her slender figure. Her hands were placed on her waist with her hip slightly to one side. Her honey eyes scanned over the faces, briefly lingering on Derek longer than the others. Derek caught the slight sight of shock cross her face before she quickly recovered. Her eyes fell on Deaton, where her gaze ended.

"Mr. Deaton." she said.

Deaton nodded and stepped forward. He extended his hand toward her. "Miss Walker. We spoke on the phone."

Miss Walker stepped forward, meeting Deaton in the center. She took a strong hold of his hand. "We did. Thank you for arranging this meeting for us."

"Mercedes, please." she replied with a polite smile.

Deaton returned her smile and turned toward Scott. He gave a slight wave and signaled Scott to step forward.

Derek nudged Scott in the back, giving the kid a push forward. Scott nervously joined Deaton's side. He held out his hand. "Scott McCall."

Mercedes smiled and shook his hand. " Pleasure to meet you."

"Scott is Beacon Hills Alpha." Deaton explained.

Each set of brows rose on the gypsies. Several of the men exchanged disbelieving glances.

"The Alpha?" Mercedes asked. She looked back at Scott. "That's very impressive for such an age, Mr. McCall."

"My man Scott earned every bit of it." Stiles piped up beside Scott, flinging his arm around Scott's shoulder.

"I don't doubt it." Mercedes said with a smile. She turned toward Stiles. "And you are?"

Stile gave a brief wave. "Stiles Stilinski. My dad's the Sheriff. So fun stuff."

Derek rolled his eyes.

Mercedes smiled again. "Yes, my father mentioned visiting with the Sheriff today. Safety lines for the festival. Pleasure to meet to Mr. Stilinski."

"Gah. Stiles. please. Please." Stiles begged. "I feel old being called Mr. Stilinski."

Mercedes let her eyes wander to Derek. "And the gloomy Camaro driver?"

All eyes turned toward Derek. He sensed anger increasing in the men closest to him. Stiles and Scott sent him questionable looks, even Deaton seemed surprised by Mercedes inquiry. For a moment, no one said a word. Mercedes stood in her place, her hands on her hips, her head slightly tilted in curiosity, and a hidden smile playing on her lips. She had him at a disadvantage in from of his pack and hers. Revenge was a bitch, but damn if this woman didn't know how to act it out right.

However, Stiles seemed to have had enough of the silence, and decided to speak for Derek. "Yeah, uh...sourwolf over there is Derek Hale. How'd you know what he drive?"

This time, Mercedes smile slyly. "Well, that's between my Honda and his Camaro."

Derek cringed internally. Revenge was the ultimate bitch.

Beside her, the man cleared his throat, catching Mercedes attention.

"These are my brothers. Lincoln." she pointed to the man on her left. "Ford and Jag." Ford stood on her right with Jag furthest from her.

"You're all names after cars?" Stile asked.

"Remind us all what your name is?" Derek asked.

"Our father has an appreciation for cars." Mercedes answered with a smirk.

Scott cleared his throat, taking lead of the conversation. "Deaton said you wanted to discuss something with us."

Mercedes turned her attention back to Scott. "Yes. Yes we did." She folded her arms in front of her chest and drew her legs closer together as she stood. "As you know, our caravan arrived into town last night for the week long festival. Typically, we register in town for permits for our shops. In our case, we need to do more than the legal steps."

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She means that they're not human." Derek answered.

"Seriously?" Stile exclaimed. His eyes lit up.

"Actually, there are humans in our caravan." Mercedes answered. "But yes, not all of us are human. And all of us have ties to your world."

Scott nodded. "Okay, so what do you need from the pack?"

"Permission."

Derek glanced across from him to Jag. The man hadn't lifted his threatening glare since it landed on him. Derek held the glare for several minutes, waiting for Jag to break or speak, but nothing happened. Annoyance and anger rose in Derek as Jag continued to glare at him. He growled low at Jag, who only seemed in intensify his glare. Derek noted his shift in his stand. Jag lowered his arms from his chest, but his limbs stiffened, as if he was preparing to attack. Derek let his hands shift. His shifted blue, giving Jag on final warning to back down. But Jag didn't back down. Instead, he burst toward Derek, raising his arm. Derek lifted his own arm in defense. Scott pushed Stiles back, who stumbled onto the ground. Scott burst forward the intervene, instantly shifting. Within a second of the charge, Mercedes stood between the two men. Derek recoiled quickly. He hadn't sensed her move in front of him until he was nearly on top of her. Her jacket had been shed from her body, her forearms pressed up against Jag's chest. Her left shoulder was heavily inked, dipping beneath her shirt. She slammed her forearms into her brother chest, throwing her entire weight into it in an attempt to prevent him from meeting Derek.

"_Du-te înapoi la camion."_ she demanded. Her smooth voice bordered on threatening over demanding.

Jag held his murderous glare over Derek, not meeting the eyes of his sister. _"__Nu am de gând s__ă__-i stea în timp ce mutt-"_

Mercedes slammed her forearms into Jag's chest once again, sending him staggering back. _"__Ia. Dumneavoastr__ă__. Ass. Înapoi. Pentru a.. Camion."_

Jag lowered his eyes to his sister. Derek noticed how Jag towered over Mercedes by at least six inches, looming over her like massive shadow. Derek and Scott wondered if he would turn his rage on her. His pulse had spiked the moment she had ordered him. Whatever she had said, Jag hadn't like it. He exhaled deeply, staring down at Mercedes.

"Now." she ordered.

Jag's eyes shot back toward Derek. They glowed through the dark, his dark orbs cutting through the darkness. He turned from them sharply and stormed off toward the truck. His steps thundered as he marched across the field. Derek watched Jag return to the truck with so much as another glance back toward them.

Mercedes turned toward Ford and Lincoln. _"__Du-te cu el."_

Ford retreated toward the trucks without any resistance. He walked back to the truck rejoining Jag in the cab.

Lincoln, however lingered behind. He moved to his sister side, never taking his eyes off her._ "__E__ș__ti sigur?"_

Mercedes nodded. _"__Cineva trebuie s__ă__-l urm__ă__ri__ț__i cu temperamentul lui."_

Lincoln glanced toward Derek. _"__Nu este JAG eu sunt îngrijorat."_

"_Dar eu sunt."_ Mercedes said. She placed her hand on Lincoln's arm. "They're not going to try anything. Not now."

Lincoln's eyes drifted back to his sister. Derek noticed how he, too, towered above Mercedes, but his gaze on her was significantly different from Jag's. Lincoln reached out and took hold of her bare shoulder. He nodded to Mercedes and released his gentle hold over her. He turned his back to the group and departed to rejoin his brothers across the field. Silence lingered in the group as the final Walker brother crossed the field and returned to his vehicle. Mercedes exhaled deeply and shook her head.

Stiles finally got to his feet. His eyes were locked onto the Walker men across the field. "What the hell was that?"

"I apologize for my brother's...outburst." Mercedes explained. She folded her arms in front of her chest.

"I'd say that was more than an outburst." Stiles explained. "Do you know what would've happened if he and Derek went-ow!" Stiles rubbed the back of his head as Scott lowered his elbow.

"Our previous dealings with your kind nearly killed a member of our caravan, forgive us for being a tad cautious." she snapped. Her accented voice dipped dangerously as her eyes narrowed on Stiles.

Derek folded his arms and eyed Mercedes carefully. She stood before them an entirely different person. Her heart beat...was faint. Very faint, nearly undetectable. Derek frowned to himself. How was that even possible? No human could hide their heart beat, so how could she? But she stood no less than ten feet from him, showing a new, more protective stance, and he could hardly detect the difference in her heart rate.

"Okay, so you guys have a problem with werewolves," Stiles continued. "you're not the first. But why in the hell did you guys come here-ow"

Derek silenced Stiles with a swift smack to the back of the head.

Scott shrugged. "S'okay. No harm done, right?"

Mercedes nodded slowly.

"So um...before...everything," Scott stammered. "you mentioned something about _'permission'_?"

Mercedes took a deep, calming breath. "Yes. Yes I did." She lowered her eyes toward the ground and paced about a few steps in front of them. Her tense posture and harsh appearance slowly melted away as the silent seconds passed. She lowered her arms, clasping her hands in front of her, and inhaled deeply once again. "Since we have enter your territory, it is custom to receive permission to reside within it. We have legal papers that allow us to reside in town during the hours of the festival, but beyond that requires permission from the pack Alpha."

Stile's brows furrowed. "So...if Scott says 'no', you guys can't stay in town during the night?"

Mercedes nodded.

Stile looked to Scott and Deaton, before turning back to Mercedes. "Am I the only one wondering why?"

"Tradition." Derek answered quickly.

Scott was silent for a moment, deep in thought of his decision. He couldn't in good conscious tell the gypsies they couldn't stay in town. It wasn't safe in general, and god only knew how dangerous it would become now. But he also couldn't ignore what had happened not ten minutes ago. Jag and Derek had nearly ripped each other to pieces. Jag looked to be a man of a short temper and Scott couldn't risk him letting lose on anyone in town; even if his only claimed rivalry was with them. Scott inhaled slowly. "How short is Jag's temper?"

Mercedes was silent for a moment. "I understand your concern after what you just saw, but I assure you that Jag's temper is not a concern."

"Not to humans." Derek said. "That what you mean?"

Mercedes nodded slowly.

Scott folded his arms across his chest. "Keep Jag under control, and I don't think we'll have a problem."

"That can be done." Mercedes replied. Her eyes drifted to Derek's. "Provided that someone else does the same."

Derek arched one of his brows.

Scott chuckled. "We can do that."

Derek rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. It wasn't worth the fight.

Mercedes smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for meeting with us."

Scott shrugged. "No problem."

Mercedes turned to depart, showing off her tattooed shoulder once more. She picked up her discarded jacket from the ground and slung it over her shoulder. She turned to face the pack once more. "I hope you enjoy the festival."

"Thanks." Scott called. He sighed heavily. "Well that went well."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, we prevented werewolf, gypsy war tonight. Good nights work."

Deaton shook his head. "Try not to stay out too late boys." He turned and headed across the field toward his own vehicle.

Stiles turned to Derek, who was still watching Mercedes. "Yo Derek, your Camaro and her Honda gotta secret or what?"

Derek didn't answer. His focus remained on Mercedes retreating figure. There was something different about her, about **what **she was. Something he'd never encountered before. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure it out. He needed to know what she was. He needed to know how she hid her heartbeat and her scent. Without any acknowledgement toward Scott and Stiles, Derek took a deep breath and walked away still puzzling over Mercedes Walker.

* * *

okay...I'm not sure what to say to this chapter. I hope I got the characters right, I'm still just getting into teen wolf, so if they seem a little off I'm sorry. Also, yeah that was predictable to see Mercedes again. translations are below, it's Romanian.

translations:

Get back to the truck. _Du-te înapoi la camion. _

I'm not going to stand her while that mutt- _Nu am de gând s__ă-i stea în timp ce mutt-_

Get. Your. Ass. Back. To. The. Truck. _Ia. Dumneavoastr__ă. Ass. Înapoi. Pentru a.. Truck_

Go with him. _Du-te cu el._

Are you sure? _Ești sigur?_  
Someone needs to watch him with his temper. _Cineva trebuie să-l urmăriți cu temperamentul lui._

It isn't Jag i'm worried about. _Nu este JAG eu sunt îngrijorat._

But I am. _Dar eu sunt._


	3. Night Walker

Beacon Hills RV park was located on the east side of town, the opposite side from the high school. Dozens of traditional RV's filled the lot, along with the remaining hand built wooden wagons that had yet to be moved onto Main Street. Outside, many fire pits had been lit, sending an orange glow into the night. Few people still lingered outside, as most would be working through the week during the festival.

Mercedes pulled into the RV ten minutes after her brothers arrived. She eased down on the accelerator and coasted her way through the park. Her RV was the furthest one of the lot, far from the other gypsies, which was how she preferred it. Her Wildcat Maxx travel trailer was the smallest of all the RV's. Granted, hers was the only travel trailer. While the others preferred Class A RV's, Mercedes enjoyed the smaller sized trailer. She preferred to leave it stationary and unhitch her custom Ram 1500 from the trailer and ride around town. It also served her better when she finally decided to break away from the traveling lifestyle.

Mercedes pulled up alongside her trailer and shut down her Honda. She pulled the gloves from her hands and lifted off her helmet. The cool air breeze drifted over her face. She stood up form her bike and walked toward the door.

Before she could reach for the handle, the door opened. Mercedes jumped and found her father standing in the doorway of her trailer. Mercedes exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh at herself.

"You scared the life out of me." Mercedes said.

Kurt Walker was a future version of his son Lincoln. He stood towering over his daughter by six plus inches. His dark brown hair was lightened with ear around his ears. His rounded face smiled down at her. "Oh how times have changed."

Mercedes laughed. "Right."

Kurt stepped to the side and held the door for Mercedes. "How was the meeting?"

Mercedes climbed up into the trailer, stepping into her living room. The sofa and table set were just to her left. The kitchen unit was immediately to her right. The bedroom and bath room were further down the hall. It was small, but cozy enough for her liking. She set her helmet down on the counter and slid her gloves inside it. She sighed as she pulled her jacket from her body. "We received permission to remain in town."

Kurt watched his daughter closely. "That's not what I asked."

Mercedes held her father's gaze for a moment. She knew what he was asking and she couldn't avoid the truth. If she didn't tell him, Lincoln would, and this was her job not Lincoln's. "Jag tried to initiate a confrontation-"

"Drop the formality bullshit Cedes, I'm your father, not your chief." Kurt said. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two glass beer bottles. He popped off both tops and passed one to Mercedes.

Mercedes accepted the beer with a heavy sigh. "The dumbass nearly-"

"Calmly." Kurt reminded.

Mercedes lowered her voice. "tried to skewer the Beta on the field. No warning, no instigation. One second he'd glaring at the Beta, the next thing I know, both of them are about to rip each other to pieces and I'm throwing himself in between them trying to keep them both alive."

Kurt was silent, taking in Mercedes story. He took a long sip from his beer before setting it back on the counter. He'd known his son's temperament toward the werewolves was unsteady, but he hadn't expected it to be so...volatile. Granted, his **own** temperament towards their kind had been much the same five years ago. But what was past is past and it was time to move on. That was why he'd chosen Beacon Hills. The pack was different; a good way to repair their prejudice against werewolves.

"_Tata,"_ Mercedes called.

Kurt lifted his eyes from the counter toward his daughter.

"Why are we doing this?"

Kurt reached across the counter and took hold of Mercedes hand. "Do you really need to ask that _dragă_?"

"We are more than capable of making enough money to avoid the packs and-"

"No Cedes." Kurt stated, squeezing her hand tightly. "No more running. We've run from their kind for five years-"

"Under reasons that are completely understandable."

"Yes, but it's time to move on, Cedes." Kurt said. "You can't keep making excuses for the rest of your life, you can't. You have to think about Bentley. Sooner or later he's going to start asking question about where he comes from and he's going to ask **you**. You need to mend that gap just as we do. Not every wolf will be like **him**."

Mercedes bit her lip and stared at the counter. She hated that **he **still had some power over her. The bastard that had stabbed them all in the back, her in the heart, and literally nearly ripped her to pieces. He had their complete trust and betrayed them all. But what he had taken from her, what he had put her through...there were no words for it. He had left her broken, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"Tell me of the pack." Kurt said, interrupting Mercedes thoughts. "Tell me of their Alpha."

Mercedes thought back a few hours. She pictured Scott McCall in her mind and couldn't help but give a slight smile. She looked up at her father. "He's a sixteen year old boy."

Kurt's brows shot up. "Really?"

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah. He was practically shaking in his sneakers when we got there. My guess is he was bitten and earned the status."

"How did he handle Jag's...problem?" Kurt asked.

"I have a feeling that if I hasn't intervened, he would have." Mercedes answered. She took a sip from her beer. "Oh, his friend was another character. Couldn't seem to stop running his mouth. But he seemed like a good kid. Just a little hyper."

Kurt chuckled. "Any others?"

Mercedes looked down at her bottle. She took a long sip from her beer, not wanting to answer the question.

"Cedes."

"You remember the Camaro, I told you about?"

Kurt nodded quickly. "Black, two door, 2010 Camaro. Leather interior. V-6, manual tranny, rear wheel drive, 304 horse-power. I approve of the car choice. Two meters high, dark hair, green eyes, quick reflexes, quick quips at your expense, good driver, excellent racer." he finished. "That's the first time you've given me almost as much information on the driver as you have the car. Is there anything I missed?"

Mercedes stripped her jacket from her body and held up her left wrist. Kurt looked down at her wrist and caught sight of several crescent shaped puncture marks. "Beacon Hills Beta."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Judging from your tone, you're going to keep your distance from him."

Mercedes pulled her wrist back and downed her beer. She pushed herself from the counter and walked around into her kitchen. She opened the door beneath the sink and dropped her bottle into the recycling bag. She turned to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, downing half of it in one sitting.

Kurt watched her closely. "If you hadn't learned he was a werewolf, would you have seen him again?"

Mercedes slowly shook her head "I don't know."

"Yes you do." he answered shortly, straightening himself. "You heard it again, didn't you?"

Mercedes sighed heavily. "I don't know what I heard this afternoon. And even **if** I did, we still have no idea what it means."

"Did you hear it during the meeting?" Kurt asked, taking another sip. "tTe call?"

She slipped her lip between her teeth. It pained her to admit that she had no control over an aspect if her life once again. The _'call'_ as they had come to call it, was something that Mercedes hear. She had heard it once as a child in a fleeting moment in England. She had assumed she was simply hearing things and hadn't given it a second thought until today. When she rolled off the hood of the Camaro and looked at the driver, at Derek, she had heard it again. Mercedes had chalked it up to the adrenaline of the accident, but there was no excuse to be found for this evening. Whatever she heard, it was because of Derek. That damn werewolf and she hated it. To be forced into the path of werewolves in a new town, unfamiliar werewolves that held their financial future in their paws. She looked up at her father, who was still waiting for and answer. Unable to vocalize her weakness, she simply nodded.

"I know this call you hear concerns you," Kurt began. "as does mending the bridge between ourselves and the werewolves, but we can't hide from them forever. It's time we all moved on and started trusting them again."

Mercedes sighed heavily. She tried not to let her thoughts wander back toward him. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"There's always a way." Kurt answered nonchalantly. He leaned back on the counter and folded his arms.

Mercedes eyed her father closely. He was far too content with his response. "You son of a bitch. This is why you named me your second."

Kurt gave a slight smile. "Possibly."

"You forced me into a position where I **have** to be in contact with them." Mercedes shouted.

Kurt shrugged. "I did say there's always a way."

Mercedes hurled her water bottle over the counter at her father. Kurt easily dodged the flying bottle. It hit the back wall and dropped down on the sofa. "You ass!"

"Mama?" came a sleep filled voice.

Mercedes spun around, finding a waist high bundle of messy blond hair. A sleepy four year old dressed in an oversized Minion tee shirt and black shorts stood behind her, rubbing his eyes. His short blond hair stuck up in places over his hair. Darker strands of gold mixed in with his messy hair. Sleepy blue eyes looked up at his mother. "Sweetie, what are you still doing up?"

The boy lowered his hand from his face and yawned. "I heard you yelling at grandpa."

"I wasn't yelling."

"You were swearing." the boy stated. He pointed to a glass jar on the counter by the sink. "That's a dollar mommy."

"Three, actually." Kurt corrected with a smirk.

"Grandpa owes one too." Mercedes replied. She reached into her wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill. She folded the bill and dropped it into the jar with the rest of her swear words. Unfortunately, the jar was fairly full.

"Two extra for later?" Kurt asked.

Mercedes smirked. She turned back to her son and knelt down in front of him. She gathered the boy into her arms. "Come on Benny, let's get you back to bed. We've got a big week ahead of us tomorrow."

Benny yawned again and wrapped his arms around his mothers neck. He leaned is sleepy head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Cedes." Kurt called.

Mercedes turned.

"Think about what I said." he explained.

* * *

so this one was just a quick look into Mercedes life. It'll definitely shift between Mercedes and Derek for the most part. if there are any errors, I blame my writing program it sucks. any questions just let me know!

translations

_Tata-_dad

_dragă-_ sweetheart


	4. Wolf's Moon

By nine the following morning, Main Street and the park was filled with nearly everyone in Beacon Hills. They packed together, weaving around shops, demonstrations, story tellers, and exhibitions. Each end of the street was lined with handmade wooden wagons, decorated in brightly colored paint, fabric, dream catchers, wind chimes, and crests. Cloth tents hung from one edge of the wagon, providing shade form the sun and ample space for the gypsies to set up their shops. The park was filled with preforming gypsies; dancers, musicians, and storytellers took to the pavilion and preformed for everyone. It was quite a spectacle

Derek wandered through the street, passing by every shop. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he weaved between the crowds. He moved slowly through the street, taking in each shop. It was a fascinating culture, one Derek hadn't studied while he was in school, so he had decided to take the week to learn what he could about the culture. So far, all he had seen were the souvenirs.

He veered off Main Street and into the park, diving into the shade of the trees. The temperature quickly dropped several degrees, providing a momentary relief from the heat. It was going to be another hot day and most people would be out at the festival. Derek ventured through the park, finding several performers in their tents. Some had shadow puppet shows in act, retelling old fables and fairy tales...the none Disney version. Another had the constellations sewn into the roof of the tent and was told the tale of each constellation.

Music , several yards away, caught Derek's attention. A decent sized crowd had gathered around, blocking Derek's sight entirely, but not his senses. He could the rapid heartbeats from everyone in the crowd. He could smell the excitement, wonder, and...arousal in the air. The crowd was a bundle of emotions, watching something. Curiously, Derek made his way toward the crowd, but remained near the back. The crowd surrounded a dark cloth tent, much like the others that lines Main Street and the park, but the tent itself wasn't the attraction. As Derek drew near, the music grew louder, more vivid. He recognized it as belly dancing music. The beats were accented heavily, reverberating in his ears and bones. Derek let his eyes wander through the center, falling on the dancer, though he shouldn't have been surprised.

Placed in the center of attention was none other than Mercedes Walker. Her back faced the crowd, exposing her intricately detailed, and extensive tattoo. From her left shoulder, past her hip, the tattoo covered her back, and Derek suspected further down. The tattoo reminded him of a henna design, intricate, detailed, extensive, and stunning. Flowers spanded down her body, connected with vines, leaves, and other details. The coloring was just as detailed as the design itself. Hues of yellow, green, violet, and blue weaved through the design, accented every angle of the tattoo. Her entexdend left arm revealed an entire sleeve of a continuing tattoo, but Derek noticed the intensity was different. Her arm sleeve was temporary, the back was not.

Her familiar golden brown hair was pulled up in and intricate bun. Several loose curls of golden brown and violet hung down from the bun around her neck. She wore, what appeared to be, a hand crafted headpiece. The band fit behind her ears like a traditional headband, with a connecting band around her forehead. The bands were accented with rhinestones, glittering in the gaps of sunlight. Her bun was decorated with numerous metallic clips with a fist sized, circular metals plate hanging from the band. Strings of beads hung from her hair alongside her face and numerous studs dotted her ears.

As she knelt on the ground, her dark grey skirt lay on the ground, gathered around her body. From afar, Derek could make out its lightweight style, knowing it helped the dancers. Attached to the skirt hung strips of leather and fur. The strings ran around her waist, while others crawled up her back, attached to her top. Thin traps wrapped around her back, secured by a metal clip. The top was leather as well, but her continuous view of her back kept her top completely hidden..

The music began to shift, as did Mercedes. With each beat, Mercedes hip shot from side to side, swinging her skirt in response. She slowly rose to her feet, keeping time with each beat. Her hips slowly swung around with the music, her arms moved with incredible grace. A series of heavy beats struck and Mercedes moved with precision, turning to face the crowd. Her body began moving from side to side like a wave, mesmerizing the crowd. Her arms moved with her body, adding to the allurement. The music began speeding up, as did Mercedes. With a lunging step toward the crowd, Mercedes threw herself into the dance.

Derek watched, completely fascinated by the dance. The sway of her hips, each step she took, the look in her eyes; she was telling a story. Mercedes finally turned to face the crowd. Her top was layers of grey leather secured to her body. Bits of fur hung from the base of her top. Her hips flicked to each side with each off beat, while she moved her upper body to the beat itself. She moved her chest in circles, as she did with her hips, before arching her back, back and forth like a snake. Her eyes cast a mischievous glance throughout the crowd. Each move she made sent a cascade of scents toward Derek, all from the crowd. He could smell their excitement, their wonder, their lust. She extended one arm in front while the other rose above her head. She hips moved in slow circles as her body slowly turned with her hips until her back was to them again.

It was in that position that she stopped. The music slowly began changing. Her left hand opened from her chest, shaking in midair. Her right arm lowered from her head, extending opposite of the left, making it. Derek watched as Mercedes entire body began to shake from her head to her feet. The music grew faster, as did the tremors through Mercedes. The music grew faster and louder, reaching its crescendo. The moment it struck, Mercedes collapsed to the ground. The crowd gasped in shock. But before anyone could respond, several children launched themselves from the tent. There were three of them, two girls and one boy, each one dressed the same. Like Mercedes, the girls wore dark grey skirts and bras, but the boy wore only pants. His chest was hennaed from the top to his shoulders in a tribal style. The girls wore their henna on their backs. But what was the most outstanding feature of their costumes, where their claws and hoods. Matching the leather costumes, they wore leather braces with metal claws protruding from their hands. Their faces were covered in wolf masks, each one a grey wolf. Each child launched themselves off Mercedes back, landing in front of herm facing the crowd.

The children began dancing, drawing the crowds attention from Mercedes. The music shifted to a slower song, matching the mystical theme with the dance. Their shoulders were drawn back, arms arched behind their backs. The children marched in place to the music, never moving out of their position. They arched their back, lifting their covered faced toward the sky, mimicking a howling wolf. Derek folded his arms and watched intently at the children's dance. The children moved from side to side, tilting their heads as they did. When they finally moved, they moved together, like a pack. They took a step toward the crowd, away from each other, and arched their backs again. They moved their arms and shoulder, turning their claws with the motions. The girls straightened their backs, holding their shoulders back, while the boy took the lead. He stepped further out, widening his stance. He drew out his arms, crossing them at the wrists while swaying his hips to the beat. On both sides, the girls followed suit, crossing their wrists and swaying to the beat. They slowly uncrossed their arms, drawing their arms wide to the sides, bending their elbows. They rolled their shoulders and dropped to their knees.

Suddenly, three more dancers joined, each one dressed like a wolf. The children moved back behind the women as they took over once more. The dancers arched their bodies down and curved up, mimicking a howl. Their shoulders moved in sync with each other through the music. They broadened their shoulders and weaved between one another. They moved to the side, making a circle with their bodies, moving their arms and claws. The dancers staggered their movements, one stopping after another, until the furthest dancer was in the lead. She arched her body from side to side, moving her arms and shoulder. She tilt her head, turning the wolf head as she moved. She stopped, crossing her arms in front of her chest, making an 'X'. The next side dancer took over the lead. She moved her head first, then allowed her body to fallow in the motion. She swung her right arm to the side hard and aimed her claws to the ground. She brought her left arm around in a similar fashion, and slowly crossed her arms as her partner had done. The center dance took the lead. She rocked her hips with a greater vigor than her partners, timing each swing with the accents of the music. She took a step forward and arched her back like a snake. She drew herself upright, crossing her arms. As the music reached its chorus, the three dancers moved in sync with one another. They bent themselves at the waist, moving their entire bodies, mimicking the motions of a wolf. Their feet moved in patterns, matching the dance above.

The excitement grew higher throughout the crowd. Derek let his eyes wander through the crowd, catching pieces of their emotions raging with the music. All eyes were on the dancers, entranced by them. With the music, Derek could sense the end was drawing near. The accelerated heart beats surrounding the dancers attest to the assumption. His eyes drifted back to the dancers and watched the remaining moments of the dance.

The dancers dropped to their knees and slowly moved toward the crowd, shifting their shoulders from left to right. They suddenly came to a stop. As before, each one began shaking throughout their entire body. One by one each dancer collapsed onto the ground, lying on her back. And one by one, each woman drew themselves upright, rolling themselves over their shoulder and jumping to their feet. The wolf masks hung down their backs, revealing their faces. Derek's eyes immediately shifted to Mercedes, who stood in the center. Without pausing, each dancer continued through the dance, mirroring each other. With one hand extended over their heads and the other arm outstretched toward the crowd, the women spun in small circles, slowing down to face the crowd briefly with a flick of their wrist. They spun around and around with the rising of the music, matching the speeding hearts in front of them. The woman came to a halt in front of the crowd, arms still extended outward. As they stood, the children returned, somersaulting out in front as the music reached its conclusion.

The crowd immediately burst into applause. Whistles and cheers echoed through the park. The dancers gathered together, each one smiling with pride. They bowed to the crowd, earning another round of applause. The three children pushed back their wolf masks and waved wildly at the crowd, obviously elated by the cheers. The women standing behind them waved more modestly than the children.

One of the dancers, a fiery red-haired woman, the left dancer, stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming today for the festival!" Her voice carried through the crowd, accented just as Mercedes. "The dance you just witnessed was choreographed by our very own Bentley Walker, whom you just observed. Come forward Bentley." She looked over her shoulder toward the boy standing in front of Mercedes.

Bentley was a tiny thing, pressing himself into Mercedes legs. His golden brown hair matched Mercedes, save for the brighter patches of blonde. His right arm was wrapped around Mercedes leg, trying to escape the staring of the crowd. Derek watched Bentley closely. The last name didn't go unnoticed and the resemblance between the two was very similar. If anything, Derek suspected the boy was her son, if nothing else.

"A little shy." the woman said. "Today's performance was entitled 'Wolf's Moon'. The next performance will begin in ten minutes time. Please, stay as long as you wish and enjoy."

The crowd applauded once more and the dancers dispersed back inside the tent. The crowd slowly dispersed from the tent, some wandering toward venders for food and water, others moving to sit down for a moment. Derek broke away from the crowd and headed toward the tent, where Mercedes and Bentley still stood. Mercedes knelt down in front of Bentley, untying the straps of Bentley's costume. She freed the boy of the wolf head before freeing herself of her own. As Derek came closer, he noticed the numerous trails of sweat that had traveled down her face and neck, and Bentley matched. Hi hair was sweaty and matted down on his head, but the boy still looked pleased with himself.

Bentley looked up as Derek reached them. His eyes were a different color than Mercedes, a deep blue, where hers were honey. He look directly at Derek, openly staring at him. Derek couldn't place the look on the boys face, it wasn't anything he'd ever seen on a kid that looked at him. Scared, hell yes. Many of which Derek intentionally caused, but never this look.

Mercedes seemed to notice Bentley's attention was somewhere else. She looked up and saw Derek standing several feet from them. She stood up from the ground. "Camaro."  
Werewolf!" Bentley cried.

Derek and Mercedes immediately stared down at Bentley in horror.

"You're a-"

Mercedes quickly clamped her hand over Bentley's mouth. "Not here, remember?" she whispered.

Bentley nodded slowly and Mercedes lowered her hand from his mouth. "Sorry mummy."

Mercedes took Bentley's hand. "I think we should move out of hearing."

Derek nodded, though he knew no one had heard Bentley's outburst. What shocked him more was the fact that the boy had known he was a werewolf in under ten seconds. Derek hadn't gotten any indication from the boy, yet Bentley had known. Just what was he?

Mercedes led them around to the back of the tent. "I'm sorry about Bentley. He's...well, he's never met a werewolf before. He's always wanted to."

Derek's brows furrowed with confusion. Mercedes silent look told him that Bentley didn't know about the caravan's problem with werewolves. But it wasn't his place to bring that up. Derek shrugged. "No harm done. No one overheard."

"What are you doing here?" Mercedes asked, crossing her arms.

"Well you did tell us to enjoy the festival." he reminded.

Mercedes gave him a look. "I was under the impression that a festival wasn't your ideal form of enjoyment."

Derek shrugged again. "Can't always depend on racing strangers."

Mercedes snorted.

Bentley tugged on Mercedes hand. "Mama, can we go look at the town?"

Mercedes looked down at her son. "Not right now, sweetie. I've got two more dances."

Bentley look visibly dissappointed. He huffed slightly and looked around the park. Mercedes and Derek followed the boys gaze toward the playground on the other end. There were dozens of children playing on the structure having fun. Derek looked down and Bentley and could get the faintest impression of the boys disappointment.

"I'll take him." Derek stated.

Mercedes and Bentley quickly looked over at Dere. Mercedes arched one of her brows at him. "What?"

"I'll take him out." Derek replied. "Show him around town, let him run around a bit."

"Yes!" Bentley cried. "Please mama?"

Mercedes shook her head in disbelief. He couldn't be serious. There wasn't a snowballs chance in hell he was being serious right now. "You don't even know us. strongI/strongspan style="font-weight: normal;" don't even know you."

"So?" Derek shrugged.

"So?" she mimiced, her voice raising several pitches. "You want me, a complete stranger, to allow you, a complete stranger, to take my son thorugh the town."

Derek had no idea what possessed him to make the offer in the first place, but he'd done it. There wasn't any going back now, not when the argument was so much fun. "I've lived in Beacons most of my life, I know this place inside and out, and having him with a pack member is safer than the two of you roaming alone."

Mercedes folded her arms. She looked at Derek closesly and then down at Bentley. The boy was practically jumping out of his costume with anticipation. She sighed internally. This life wasn't meant for children like Bentley, for those always wanting to stop and look around. She had been trying to do better by him, to show him how everyone lives stationary. It nearly killed her when Bentley had told her that he'd rather stay in one town than move around all the time. And when he'd asked why they couldn't stay, Mercedes had only answered that they hadn't found the right place yet. Mercedes looked down at her son as he waited patiently, as patiently as any four year old boy could do so. Derek didn't fit the typical 'child friendly' persona. She'd seen a glimpse of sarcasm and humor, but that wasn't a top priority with kids. Still, Derek had a point, Bentley would be in the best care with a pack member. Her father's voiced echoed through her head, _'There's always a way'. _She closed her eyes and sighed. "Son of a bitch."

"Mama." Bentley warned. His brows furrowed on top of his forehead. His child eyes narrowed and his lips turned into a frown. He glared up at his mother, in his most intimidating, yet adorable, serious glare.

Mercedes tried her hardest not to smile, even going as far as looking away from him. "Sorry Benny. Another dollar for the jar."

Bentley folded his arms in front of his chest and nodded seriously.

Mercedes met Derek's look. He, too, was having a hard time keeping a straight face. She took a deep breath and reached her arm out toward Derek. "Phone."

Derek arched his brow, his struggle for composure ending. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. He passed it to Mercedes, who instantly set to work. He watched her enter her number and send herself a text. Smart woman. She tossed it back to him.

"I'll give you half an hour." she answered, staring directly at Derek. "My performance will be over by then. You stay in the park and have him back here in thirty minutes. Understood?"

Derek nodded. "Thirty minutes to run around the park gonna be enough for him?"

"No." Mercedes andswered. "But it'll be enough for you." She turned her attention to her son. She knelt down in front of him. "I'll let you go with Derek, if you stay close to him, if you listen to him, and if you come back when Derek says. Okay?"

Bentley's serious face melted away in seconds. He nodded his head furiously. "Okay mummy! Let's go!" He turned from his mother and tried to run off.

Mercedes caught him around his middle. "Whoa! Not yet!"

"But mummy!"

"No claws." Mercedes reminded. She reached for the arm bands still secured to Bentley's arm. She loosened the bands and pulled them from her sons arm, releasing him in the process.

The second Bentley was free, he took off toward the playground. Derek stared after the boy. This shy thing that danced in front of the crowd couldn't possibly be the same boy racing toward he playground with a complete stranger. Mercedes, however, saw that Bentley was missing something he needed. She raced back into the tent and carrying a small shirt. Bentley's shirt. Bentley's shirt that was missing from the boys exposed body as he was running toward the playground. She quickly tossed it to Derek, who was still stunned by Bentley.

"Good luck." Mercedes sais, tearing Derek from his thoughts.  
Clutching Bentley's shirt, Derek sprinted after the boy, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

Yeah, fixed dumb code problem!

okay, I apologize for this chapter. it is VERY hard to write a dance sequence. if anybody was interested, yes she's a belly dancer. on another note: I goofed. I forgot to mention Mercedes violet streaks. They are an important feature in her...and Bentley. I know Derek was TOTALLY out of character, offering to take Bentley and all. I apologize again. I'm still getting used to writing his character. Next chapter is Bentley and Derek...bonding I guess. I mean, how much bonding can Mr. sourwolf do with a 4 year old who's never met a werewolf?


	5. Bentley

With his head start, Bentley had enough leaway to beat Derek to the playground and situate himself into one of the swings by the time Derek caught up with him. The four year old tried his best to get himself moving in the swing, but he only managed to keep himself from falling off instead. Derek couldn't hold back the smirk as he came up to the swing, watching Bentley bite his lip in concentration.

"Can you please push me, Derek?" Bentley asked. His accent slipped in, mimicking his mother's. He leaned his body back, still trying to get the swing into motion.

Derek nodded. "Sure, but you put your shirt on first." He walked to Bentley's side and handed the boy the shirt Mercedes had tossed him. "Your mom will have my head if you get sunburned."

Bentley took the shirt from Derek and quickly pulled it over his head. He poked out his arms and grabbed the chains of the swing. Derek smirked at the boys enthusiasm and took hold of Bentley's foot. Bentley smiled as Derek pulled him forward and let go. Bentley laughed as he started swinging back an forth. He started pumping his legs, trying to keep it going, but his timing was off at each moment. Derek caught his leg again, giving him another pull.

Derek glanced around the playground. Surprisingly, it was fairly empty considering the events going on. He turned his attention back to Bentley, who was still trying to get himself swinging. "How did you know what I was, Bentley?"

Bentley stared at the trees as he swung. "I could smell it."

Well that was a good answer, but it raised more questions. Derek frowned slightly, the boy was just one puzzle inside a puzzle. He figured Bentley would have to be a certain breed to know what Derek was, but he couldn't get a scent on the kid to figure it out on his own. "But how could you tell?"

This time, Bentley looked down at Derek. "Cause you smell like me."

That got Derek's attention. His brows rose. "You're a werewolf too?"

Bentley nodded his head. "Yeah, but mama doesn't like me saying it out loud where people can hear me."

Derek glanced around the playground, if more for Bentley's sake than his own. "Then it's a good thing there isn't anyone to hear us."

If it was even possible, Bentley smiled wider. "Yep."

A small smirk spread over Derek's face. The kid was...different. Definitely not afraid of a werewolf, much less a werewolf he'd never met before. It was strange, dangerous especially, but the boy didn't seem to be afraid. "So if you're a werewolf, Bentley, is you mom one?"

Bentley shook his head. His smile all but vanished from his face. His eyes dropped to the ground. "No. I'm not supposed to say what she is. She doesn't like it."

More questions than answers once again. What could Mercedes be afraid of? Derek knew that every species had their own dark secrets, but from the way Bentley was talking about his mother's race, she hated it almost as much as...werewolves. Derek decided to try something else. "Is your dad a werewolf?"

Bentley nodded slowly. "He was. That's what mama told me."

Derek caught the sadness in Bentley's voice. Anyone could tell that the father wasn't in the picture. In fact, if Derek had to guess firsthand, the dad might even be part of the cause why Mercedes hates werewolves. but to have the entire caravan hate them, it was a deep event, there was no doubt. As much as he wanted to know about the incident, Mercedes would skin him if he returned a mopey boy to her. "So Bentley, how many different places have you been to?"

Bentley seemed to light up at the question. "Hundreds!"

"Hundreds?"

"Maybe thousands!" Bentley replied. "We go all over the world!"

"Really?" Derek arched a brow. "Where were you born?"

Bentley thought for a moment. "Um...New...New...it's a hard one. It's starts with a _'Z'_."

"New Zealand?" Derek asked.

Bentley nodded again. "Yeah. New Zealand. And then we moved to America."

"So where was your favorite city to visit?"

"Here!"

"Here?" Derek repeated.

Bentley nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. I like it here?"

Derek crossed his arms and watched Bentley. "Why?"

Bentley had long since stopped trying to swing in the large swing. His sat in the rubber seat, staring up at Derek. His big blue eyes met green without a hint of fear or deceit. And with an answer so simple, it was a child's reply, Bentley spoke. "Because I got to meet another werewolf."

Something shifted within Derek as he watched Bentley. It was a small shift, but it felt significant. Standing in the park, talking, and swinging Bentley, it felt...normal. His whole life had been one roller-coaster after another, fighting tooth and claw to survive, but this. This moment right now, it was so innocent, so calming that Derek wasn't sure how to keep it with him. he couldn't understand how this little boy, this stranger, could cause such an unusual shift in him. Derek could hide his smile any longer. It suddenly struck him, that Bentley wasn't an ordinary four year old werewolf. There was something in him that made him more; made him special. Unable to hide his small smile, Derek grabbed Bentley's foot and pulled him once more, finally allowing the small boy to swing once again.

Bentley clutched the chains and laughed as he began swinging toward Derek. He swung away and got an idea. As he moved toward Derek, Bentely reached with one of his feet, trying to touch Derek. As Bentley swung at Derek, Derek leaned back just enough to stay out of Bentley's reach. Bentley pouted as he swung back, but tried again on his next swing. Derek chuckled and leaned away from Bentley's foot. bentley missed again, but laughed nonetheless. He leaned back in the swing, unaware that was swinging himself now. The swing moved toward Derek once more as Bntley tried to touched Derek with his feet.

Derek ducked under Bentley as he swung about, and rolled behind Bentley altogether.

Bentley looked over his shoulder toward Derek. "Hey, that's cheating!"

Derek chuckled. "Is not."

"Is too!" Bentley called, swinging back.

Derek dove again, rolling as belnty hit the peak. He stood up and prepared to move forward when a weight dropped onto his back. Small arms wrapped around his neck, grabbing tiny fistfulls of his tee shirt. Derek looked over his shoulder and spotted Bneltey's streak hair. He reached behind him and lifted Bneltey higher over his back, allowing the boy to get a better grasp. "Who's cheating now?"

"Not me." Benltey laughed.

"Whta?" Derek asked. He moved his arms, catching hold of Bneltey. He carefully pulled Benltey around to his left side, bringing the boy up under his arm. Benltey laughed the entire time Derek pulled him around. Derek hung Bentley upside down just a foot over the ground and let his fingers move for the boys ribs. Bentley screeched with laughter as Derek tickled the helpless boy.

As Derek tortured the small boy, he felt bentley stiffen in his arms the same moment Derek caught a familiar scent. He looked up form the boy and let his eyes follow the scent. Several yards off, walking toward them, were the Walker boys. Ford and Jag, if Derek remembered correctly. Derek lowered Bneltey onto the ground and striahgtened himself. The men were joined by two others, gyspsies that Derek hadn't met, nor did he want to. Each one was dressed to indicate neither had been taking part in the festival today. Bneltey moved behind Derek's leg, clutching his jeans with a trembling fist. Benltey's fear aught Derek's attention as Jag appraoched them. He placed a hand over Bentley's head, hoping to provide the boy with some reassurance.

The gesture was not lost as Jag reached them. His cold eyes narrowed at the inappropriate action on Derek's part. He stopped several feet from Derek, folding his ams in front of his chest. Despite what his father had discussed with thrm, Jag doubted Kurt would welcome the sight of Bentley in the company of their kind, muchless have the boy clutching onto the stranger as he would with family.

"There something you need?" Derek asked, not taking his hand from Bneltey's head.

Jag's eyes narrowed at Derek's hand. "I'm here for my nephew."

Derek glanced down at Benltey, still clutching his pant leg. "He's in safe hands."

"That's your opinion." Jag snapped quickly.

"His mother agreed enough to let him out." Derek replied. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Mercedes warning echoed thorugh his head. No one could afford a confrontation at the scale that had nearly occured during the first meeting, but Derek wouldn't be the one to break the agreement. If Jag wanted a confrontation, Derek had every reason to beleive that there would be one but Derek wouldn't be the one who struck first.

Jag took a step closer. Bentley shrank further behind Derek, his grip tightening on the material. "He's coming with me."

Benltey's fist shook around Derek's leg. He was terrified of Jag, of his own uncle. The fear was almost overwhelming. It was as if the mere presence of his uncle had reverted the boy into his shell. Derek stood where he was and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the numbers. "Mercedes gave me thirty minutes till she wanted him back. By my count, I still have ten minutes. you don't beleive me, you can call-"

"I don't give a fuck what she tld you." Jag snapped viciously. "I'm taking my nephew back now." He moved even closer, until he was just inches from Derek. "And I have no problem taking him by force."

Derek nodded slowly. He lowered his phone back into his pocket. Best not to be holding it if Jag went at him. Replacing the damn thing would be an unneccessary pain in the ass. "Something tells me you're used to getting your way by force."

Jag was silent.

"Let's get one thing straight, _Jaguar_," Derek said, dropping his voice. "you're in _my_ town. Which means you play, by _my _rules. I can have you and your whole caravan out of here in the hour. But since I don't want to hurt Bentley's feelings when he likes it here, I'll let you keep that stick up your ass...this time. But if you threaten me, or my pack, I will not hesitate to kick your ass."

To Derek's surprise, Jag smirked. "I'd love to see you try mutt."

Derek leaned toward Jag, letting his teeth and eyes shift. "Don't tempt me."

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Neither one caring what occured around them, or who passed by them. They only cared about threatening the other with their eyes. A small tug on Derek's fingers broke his concentration. Derek looked away from Jag and looked down at his hand. Benltey had moved from around his leg and held two of Derek's fingers. Fear still lined his gaze as he looked up.

"I should go with my uncle." he whispered. His voice was loud enough for Derek to hear.

"You don't have to go." Derek replied. "I can take you back to your mom, instead."

Bentley slowly shook his head. "No."

"Benltey-"

"Let's go!" Jag ordered.

Bentley jumped beside Derek and moved away. He let go of Derek's fingers and moved to his uncles side. Jag grabbed Bentley by his arm. Bentley winced painfully and grabbed Jag's hand, trying to ease his uncles grasp.

Anger flooded through Derek. Every nerve told him to go for the throat and drop Jag right on the spot. His hand launched from his side out toward Jag. But at the last secon, Derek regained control over his sneses and grabbed Jag in the same place. Jag looked back at Derek, ready to murder him. Derek didn't care anymore. His voice was deep, matching the growl ythat escaped his lips. "Let him go. He doesn't need you guiding him."

Ford looked about ready to jump int the argument to back his brother up, but Jag seemed to take the hint and choose his fights. This, was apparently not one of them. Jag nodded and released his grip on Benltey's arm. The boy quickly scurried away in front of his uncle and headed toward the festival. Ford followed after Benlty, but took one last look in Derek's direction. Derek kept his eyes on Bentley as the boy retreated away.

A tight grip latched onto Derek's upper arm, matching the area where he'd gripped Jad. Derek turned to meet Jag's hard gaze. "This may be your town, but not everyone is your friend. Especially, **my **nephew."

"You're not his mother." Derek reminded.

"No, thank god." Jag replied. "But I am family, which makes his safety my obligation. And your kind are not welcome around him. Host or not."

Derek leaned forward. "Funny how his own **kind** seem to be the only one to spend time with him."

Jag's eyes narrowed dangerously. Derek heard his jaw clench tightly. "Keep away from him." He released Derek, who in turn released him, and followed after his brother.

Derek watched Jag retreat back toward the festival. He shook his head in anger, there was no concern for Bentley where his uncles were concerned. The overuse of pronouns while he referred to Bentley was more than enough to suggest that both Ford and Jag didn't care about Bentley. But Jag's excessive force used on Bentley nearly launched Derek into the confrontation everyone wanted to avoid. Derek turned to leave the park. He'd nearly started a conflict between the pack and the gypsies over a four year old boy that he barely knew. Putting the visible verbal and physical abuse aside, the prejudice against Bentley was enough to make Derek keep the boy as far from the others as he could. He didn't understand how Bentley, a young, innocent child, could spur such hatred. Derek clenched his fist, keeping the wolf side of him from tearing through the public park. Something told Derek it had nothing to do with the boy, but with the werewolf half of him. With his father, maybe. Either way, Bentley would need an extra set of eyes keeping him safe from his family.

* * *

not sure how this reads, but I wanted to try my hand at an interaction between Derek and Bentley. If it's bad I'm gong to pin it on the 'it's hard to mimic four year olds' excuse. holy cow I work with the runts and I can't mimic them. that's bad! hope you guys aren't disappointed.

next chapter: Derek+ Mercedes+ alcohol=? (NOT SEX...yet)


	6. Blissful Curiosity

As the evening dawned on the first day of the festival, the city began to wind down. By six, the festival had closed down for the evening. The shops were closed, the tents packed away, wagons locked down, all for the night, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything planned for the evening. From Main Street, the gypsies, those that felt like celebrating the first successful evening of the festival, had moved to one of Beacon Hills night clubs. To not make the nightly attendants of _'Jungle'_ uncomfortable, the _"Bliss'_ was selected for the evening's rally.

The club music pulsed out into the streets through the entrance, where a long line had formed around the building. The neon and strobe lights pulsed through the dark club. The only light came from the bar that was illuminated upon the top and the wall mounts where the bartenders worked. The dance floor was filled with a blend of gypsy dancers and Beacon Hills residents. The bar was sparsely populated, as most of the attendants were on the crowded dance floor.

From the bar, Derek watched the interactions between the visitors and the residence. Some had paired off with known partners, but most of the congregation had mixed their partners. It was easy to see the which partner was a resident and which was a visitor. The gypsies still wore a piece or two of their costumes or jewelry. Several of the female dancers were known by their henna tattoos or their bra tops from the days performances. The men were harder to distinguish within the crowd.

Derek watched the crowd, observing. He held a glass of whiskey against the counter. His third in the hour and since it wasn't going to effect him, not his last either. He turned back toward the bar and stared down at his drink. The vibrant color of his drink reminded him of the color of Bentley's streaks hair this afternoon. Anger and disgust boiled inside him again as his thought wandered back toward the confrontation with Jag and Ford. Derek down his glass and signaled for another. The boy had done nothing to earn such a disgusting treatment, by his own uncles no less. If Bentley had such fear of his uncles, just what was his treatment within the caravan, with his mother? No, no Derek had seen the bashful boy hide behind his mother's legs and seen the look of admiration from Mercedes at the mention of Bentley's achievements. Mercedes affection toward her son were true and honest.

The song came to an end and the next one started up. As the dancers moved to change partners or moved toward the bar or around the floor, Derek caught two scents in the club. He rolled his eyes and reached for his refilled drink.

"Well look who's here." Stiles said, coming up beside Derek. He sat down on the seat to Derek's left and leaned against the bar, staring out at the dance floor.

Derek forced himself to ignore Stiles hormones so close to him. He sighed heavily and set down his glass with a _thunk_ that made Stiles jump for some reason. "Try not to drool too much. Girls don't find that attractive."

Stiles quickly brought a hand up to his mouth to check, and found nothing. He looked over at Derek and frowned. "How would you know what they find attractive? It's not you've got the ladies lined up sourwolf."

"That cause they're all watching from across the club." Derek said. He gestured his head across the club. Stiles followed, finding a group of young women watching them intently.

Stiles' eyes grew wide. His mouth dropped and he spun around to face Derek again. "How in the hell are you not using that to your advantage?"

"Not interested." Derek answered.

Stiles shook his head. "God, I swear, you and Scott. One woman men, both of you."

Scott rolled his eyes from his seat to Derek's right. Stiles had dragged him out since the festival ha closed down for the night. He hadn't wanted to since Allison was going to call him, but Stiles had pulled the 'wingman' card and Scott had relented. "Dude, trust me, you don't want to know what they're saying or how they smell."

Derek raised his glass in agreement. "Besides, you don't want to ruin your ten to fifteen year plan with Lydia in one night, do you?"

Stiles shot an outraged look at Scott. "Dude! you told him?"

"You're as subtle about Lydia as Scott is with Allison." Derek stated, taking another drink.

Stiles turned around and looked back out at the dance floor. He leaned against the bar, watching all the couples dancing. His foot bounced against the floor. His eyes scanned across the faces and bodies swaying. Stiles tilt his head to the side, getting lost in the occasional sway of some tightly clad hips.

Derek hit him in the shoulder, knocking Stiles out of his trance. "Dude! Ow!"

"Keep the hormones in check." Derek warned, turning away.

"Why are you even here?" Stiles demanded. "This place is raging hormone central!"

"None of your business." Derek replied. He turned to Scott. "Isaac take the safe way out?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, he faked having to work."

Derek arched one of his brows. "And Stiles didn't bother to question him?"

Scott shook his head. "He was in a rush to get here."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Had a slight run in with Jag today."

Scott's eyes grew wide. "He didn't-"

"No, but it was close." Derek answered.

"How close?"

"I went to rip his throat out and grabbed his arm instead." he answered quickly.

"You ripped his arm off?" Scott cried out, shooting up from his stool.

"No I didn't rip his arm off." Derek replied. "I grabbed his arm. No claws, no fangs, no severed limbs."

Scott exhaled deeply and sat back down on the stool. "Thank god. I don't think I can deal with that mess right now."

Derek smirked at Scott. "You're gonna have to deal with confrontation as the Alpha at some point, Scott. That's what being the Alpha comes with."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"Holy hell!" Stiles cried. He spun around and grabbed Derek by the shoulder.

"Stiles, what the hell?" Derek demanded. He turned to look at Stiles, but found the teens attention out on the dance floor.

Stiles pointed into the crowd. "Do you guys see what I see?"

Derek and Scott looked out into the crowd, following Stiles direction. The crowd was full of people and the lighting was dim to obscure human eyesight, but Scott and Derek managed just fine. They let their eyes scan over the faces on the dance floor. Faces passed by with each passing second until they both found what had riled up Stiles.

"Please tell me you see what I see." Stiles all but begged.

"Is that-?"

Derek nodded slowly, stunned by what he saw. Though he was starting to realize that he shouldn't be. "Mercedes."

The definition of bombshell was redefined in less than ten seconds. The gypsy stood several feet from the outskirts of the crowd. Her hair hung loose, freed from the ornate and complex style from the afternoon. Her defined figure was wrapped in a deep emerald green mini dress. An overlay of green lace covered her arms and dress. The overlay was gathered up near her right hip and held with an ornate pin and string of pearls. The neckline of the overlay swept down in a scoop style whilst the dress itself was a sweetheart style. The sleeves hung loose around her arms, flowing with every motion of her arms on the dance floor. Her tones legs were a mile long, further embellished by a pair of black strappy heels. The strands of dancing violet complimented the green of her dress and added to the allurement. Her body danced in a seductive manner with the music, seemingly lost to its rhythm. Her dance was just as mesmerizing on the dance floor as it was in the park.

In fact, a lot of people noticed. Derek tore his eyes from Mercedes and scoured the entire club. There were numerous men watching her form every angle of the club. Not just Stiles, who couldn't stop staring, or Scott who tried not to stare for too long, but dozens of others. It was as if they **couldn't** stop themselves from doing so. As if it was Mercedes, herself, that was causing it. Each man had the same scent of excitement and arousal imitating from them as they watched. Derek didn't want to imagine what twisted fantasy's they'd imagined, the scent was more than enough.

"Oh my god." Stiles slid off his stool and fell to the ground.

Without taking his eyes off Mercedes, Derek grabbed Stiles and hauled him up to his feet. "Get him out of here, now!"

Derek's sharp tone shook Scott from his thoughts. He frowned and looked at Derek. "What? Why?"

Derek motioned around the club. "You notice something about the men here?"

Scott took a moment to look around. "They're all staring at Mercedes?"

"Exactly." Derek stated.

"So?" Stile suggested. "She's hot."

"It's more than that." Derek muttered.

"What is it then?" Scott asked.

Derek shook his head in frustration. "I don't know."

Both wolves watched Mercedes with new found interest. She moved in her own way. moving her hips in one directions while she moved her shoulders in another. She raised her hands up near her head, sending her sleeves slipping down her arms. Her head turned toward them, giving them a better view. Her eyes opened for a brief moment; brief enough for them to see the color in her eyes. What they saw was not the expected warm honey amber eyes, but a bright, violet hue. The same shade of the streaks in her hair.

"Derek, you see-"

"I saw." he answered.

"What is she?" Scott asked.

"I don't know," Derek answered. He pushed Stiles into Scott. "but I'm going to find out."

"Man, how come you get all the action?" Stile whined.

Derek turned to look at Stiles and flashed his eyes threateningly. Stiles immediately shut up and moved toward the exit with Scott following him.

"Hard to believe he hasn't has anything to drink." Scott said as they left.

"No it isn't." Derek replied. He turned from the boys as they left, and let his eyes go back toward the crowd. He immediately began searching for Mercedes where he'd last spotted her, but she was gone. The people she'd been dancing with were still on the dance floor, but Mercedes had seemingly moved on elsewhere. He searched through the crowd for any sign of her, but there was nothing, not even residual glimpses through the men that had been watching her.

"Looking for something?"

Derek spun around quickly. Mercedes was stood just a few feet from him, pressing her arms against the bar. He hadn't heard her approach in the slightest, no beat of her heart, no click of her heels, nothing. Her hair hung over her right shoulder and down in the front of her dress. Up close, Derek could see the slight golden shimmer around her eyes and at the base of her neck. Yet despite the intensity of her dancing, there was no sign of perspiration on her body. He couldn't even feel a hint of heat radiating from her.

Mercedes must have noticed his alarmed posture. A slight smirked formed on her lips and she tried not to laugh. "A little jumpy?"

"No." Derek answered. "Just wasn't expecting company."

"Well I won't keep you for long." she replied. The bartender arrive carrying a neon blue drink and set it down in front of her. Mercedes smiled and picked up her drink, taking a long sip from the liquid.

Derek caught a whiff of several types of alcohol in her drink. "**What** is that?"

Mercedes set her glass down and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "It's called and AMF. Audios Mother F-"

"I got it." Derek finished. "There's what?-four different types of alcohol in that drink?"

Mercedes looked at her drink. "Five actually, but no one really count liqueurs when they drink. Are you worried I can't handle my alcohol?"

"Nope. Just your taste." he answered.

Mercedes shrugged. "So I like a little more flavor than burn."

"You don't have to make excuses just because you can't handle anything stronger." Derek said smugly. He watched Mercedes eyes narrow at him. He kept his face straight as she glared at him.

Mercedes reached over the took the glass from Derek's hand. He watched with great amusement as Mercedes tipped the glass and knocked back the remaining three quarters of the whiskey in his glass. She set the glass back down on the bar in front of Derek and took the stool beside him. She propped her elbow up on the abr and leaned against it.

Derek looked at the empty glass, desperately wishing there was enough whiskey remaining to put his lips where hers had been seconds ago. But he pushed that pointless thought from his mind and turned to face Mercedes. "I wasn't done with that."

"You are now." she replied quickly. She pushed her glass toward him. "I can share though, if you think you can handle something with a little more flavor."

That previous thought returned, but Derek pushed the glass back toward Mercedes. "I'll pass."

Mercedes shrugged. "More for me."

"Hope you're not driving." Derek stated, signaling to the bartender for another round.

Mercedes snorted. "Please, I could drink everyone here under the table and still pass a sobriety test."

Derek arched one of his brows. "That so?"

"Yeah, that so." she replied.

"Sounds like a challenge." Derek said, taking a sip form his refilled whiskey. He noted the coolness of his glass.

Mercedes arched one of her slender brows. "That bored?"

"Curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat." Mercedes reminded.

"Good thing I'm not a cat." Derek stated.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Moving on." she slammed her hand on the counter, placing several bills in front of him. "I owe you."

Derek eyed the bills beneath her hand. "For one drink?"

Mercedes chuckled. "That should cover your four drinks, and any others you plan to have tonight." She removed her hand, leaving the bills. "It's my way of saying 'Thank you'. Again."

Derek arched his brow. "For what?"

"For Bentley." she whispered. "He couldn't stop talking about how much fun he had with you. How you pushed him on the swing, how he jumped onto your back, how you listened when he talked-"

"How his uncles dragged him back?" Derek asked.

Mercedes nodded slowly. "Yeah. He mentioned that too."

"Do all his uncles treat him like that?" he asked, staring at the table. He couldn't keep the comment to himself. He had no right in diving into her and Bentley's private life, but Jag's behavior had Derek worried for the boy.

"Just Jag and Ford." she spat bitterly. "Lincoln and my father adore him. In fact, Bentley probably telling my father all about you as we speak."

Derek nodded. "Good to know not everyone treats him with contempt."

Mercedes nodded as well. "Indeed. And worse, he has no idea why, nor should he know."

"Then why treat him that way?" Derek asked, turning toward her.

Mercedes was silent for a moment, staring at her glass. "I'm neither drunk enough, nor desperate enough, to tell you that story. So you'll have to live with disappointment there, Derek."

Derek shrugged. "Not the most disappointing thing I've faced."

"I meant what I said, though." Mercedes continued. "With all the moving around, Bentley doesn't have any friends. What you did for him today, in just twenty minutes, it meant everything to him. you didn't treat him differently because he was a werewolf, you treated him like he was human. Like a -"

"Normal child?" Derek finished.

Mercedes nodded.

"If you hate moving around so much, then why not just leave?" Derek asked.

"And go where?" she replied. "If we stay, we have the security of work and the security of family nearby."

"Sounds like fear talking." Derek replied.

"Maybe." Mercedes commented. "But how many places would hire someone who's made a living dancing more money. A respectable business that requires less kin to be shown during business hours?"

"Depends on your qualifications, but plenty." Derek answered, taking another sip of his whiskey.

Mercedes shook her head. "You have all the answer's, don't you?"

"Not quite." Derek answered. "There's one that I'm missing."

"And that is?"

"What are you?" he asked, watching her closely. "You said nearly every member of your caravan is from our world. You have no scent to follow, a barely audible heart beat, violet eyes, and you seem to have the capability to mesmerize any male watching you move. And Bentley implied that what you are, is something you'd rather forget."

Mercedes was quiet, but her gaze never left his. Her face was unreadable to him. He could sense her emotions were shifting, but he couldn't pin point which emotions. She was an enigma to him. Drawing him in with the riddles of her life. Mercedes took a long, slow sip from her glass and set it back to the table. "Most women would kill for the power that I have. But they realize just how dangerous it really is." She looked up at Derek again. He could see traces of sadness within her eyes. "To be a man's greatest desire, their deepest wish, and wants. To be their darkest secret and deepest fears. Only to realize that what they see it isn't them." She leaned toward him until there was only a few inches between them. "I can bring the strongest of men to their knees, deceive the most faithful of lovers to infidelity, and turn brother against brother. What I am...is dangerous."

"I'm well accustomed to dangerous." Derek replied, never taking his eyes from hers.

"Not like this." She whispered. "Not like me."

With that, Mercedes slowly rose from her seat, never taking her eyes off Derek until she stood several inches above him. With grace and silence, she stepped from the bar and headed toward the exit. Derek watched her leave, catching the eyes of every man she passed. He watched their gazes follow the sway of her hips, sensing their arousal. When she slipped out of the club, Derek shifted his gaze to her seat. Curiously, he placed his hand over the pleather cover. To his surprise, the pleather was nearly ice cold. Derek frowned and looked back toward the door. Cold. Violet eyes. Lust. Scentless. He had all the pieces to his question, but he just couldn't put them together. Derek turned back to his drink, letting his eyes linger on the abandoned AMF. "So...what are you Cedes?"

* * *

look an update! who knew? hope Scott and Stiles were normal...well as normal as they can be. Not gonna lie, I had fun writing Stiles. And we gotta see a bit of what Mercedes is packing within her. I know we all know what she is, but does everyone agree with the description she gave to Derek? I'll go into it further on, don't worry.

As to the little nickname Derek gave her "Sadies" pronunciation.

until next time.

PLEASE REVIEW! IT'S THE ONLY GOOD THING IN MY LIFE!

Love you guys!


	7. Safety Nets

The white DCT Honda rolled into the RV park. Most people would find riding in a mini dress was inappropriate and provocative. Mercedes snorted to herself. She brought men to her knees without even trying and she already had Bentley, what more was there to be provocative? What would riding a bike in a mini dress do that her own species couldn't? Most of the male population of the caravan and Beacon Hills had been drooling over her for the past few hours at _'Bliss'_ without a second thought. Ironic really, nearly everyone in the caravan despised her, but when it came down they couldn't keep themselves from looking at her. They could look, they could play around, they didn't have a baby back home depending on them. Mercedes idled her way around the RV's toward her trailer. She came around the corner, and found herself face to face with Bentley. Mercedes hit the brakes instantly, coming to a screeching stop in front of her son. Mercedes all but leapt off her bike and threw her helmet to the ground. Bentley stood in the headlight circle of the bike, standing in his T-Rex pajama set. The grey shirt was oversized for his small body and the black shorts nearly dipped passed his knees. His face was tear streaked and dirty.

Mercedes knelt in front of Bentley and gently cupped his cheeks. "Benny what happened?"

Bentley turned his head and sniffed. "Un-uncle...J-j-j-ja-a-a-g-g. an-n-n-n pa-pa-pa-pa."

Fury surged through Mercedes. She lifted Bentley into her arms and began rubbing circles on his back, trying to calm down her son. "It's okay, sweetie. It's okay. I'm going to have a talk with him."

Bentley shook his head. "N-n-n-n-no-o-o m-m-m-ma-m-ma."

"Look at me." Mercedes whispered. Bentley lifted his head off her shoulder. "Uncle Jag, is not going to hurt you again. I promise you sweetie."

Mercedes stormed through the park toward her trailer. Several lights were on, signaling that there was someone inside her trailer. Angry words and yells echoed from inside the trailer. Mercedes walked to the open window where Bentley had escaped from. Bentley climbed back into his room and slid the window closed. Once Bentley was tucked inside his room, no doubt hiding in his closest with his hands over his hears, Mercedes turned to the door. She could feel her nails start to grow into her blenched palms, feel the burning of her forearms, and the rigged spine that desired to break through her flesh . She tried to hold back the change, but her anger was so strong at the moment. She could hold back..until she stepped inside ger trailer. She stormed toward the door and al but ripped it off. She stomped up into her trailer without a sign of hinderance from her heels of dress.

Her sudden appearance ended the argument between. Jaguar and Kurt, who were both in the kitchen. Both men still held signs of their heated argument. Kurt's face was tight and tinted red with rage. Jag was no different, though his shade lingered more toward purple. But both men ceased and turned toward Mercedes. The moment her heated eyes fell to Jaguar, the fury induced change took over. Her nails shot from their beds, three inches long, white, and sharp. The white spiked ridges broke from her forearm, slicing through her overlay of her sleeves. Mercedes stormed the few feet to Jaguar and grabbed by the back of his neck. Her claws sunk into his neck as she dragged him toward the door. Her breath came in ragged, short bursts of hissing. Mercedes threw Jag out the door. Jaguar staggered down the steps onto the concrete. He clutched the back of his bloodied neck and turned back around. Mercedes hoped the steps, blocking JAg from reentering her trailer.

"What the hell?" Jag demanded, coming at her.

"I've had enough of your shit, Jag." Mercedes raised her arm just as Jag reached her, placing her rigid fin blade beneath his neck.

"Mercedes!" Kurt yelled, coming up behind her.

"If you ever, EVER, come near my son again-"

"You'll kill me?" Jag laughed. "You'd loose the safety of the caravan."

"My son isn't safe **inside** the caravan because of you, asshole!" Mercedes stated slowly. "He's afraid of his own family. He trusts **strangers**."

"He trusts **them**." Jag replied. "He trusts his own kind. They always search for a pack, even the children. He's more comfortable with the monsters...just like his mother."

"ENOUGH!" Kurt yelled, silencing his children. He stormed down the steps and pulled Mercedes off Jag. "That's enough! This feud ends now!"

"How can it end when you open negotiation with these monsters?" Jag demanded.

Kurt turned to his youngest. "We've avoided them long enough. Holding grudges does nothing but poison the soul, and that is what, as a caravan, we must keep together. If one of us falls to hatred, we poison us all."

"So we're wronged and we must compromise with their breed." Jag snapped.

"It is asked of us, not only as a caravan, but as children of god." Kurt reminded.

Jag shook his head bitterly. "Then you'd better hope your daughter can keep her legs closed this time. All that attention from the mutt's going to give you another mongrel grandchild, providing she isn't disgusted with herself again."

Fury and shame flooded through Mercedes. She clenched her fist tightly, piercing her palm with her nails. "Well we all know your mother never did, seeing as how **you** are proof of that."

Jag snarled and charged.

Kurt slammed into Jag, pushing him back. "I said enough!" He pushed Jag to the ground. "Go home!"

Jag exhaled heavily.

"Go!" Kurt ordered. "The dealings with the wolves are no longer your concern. Consider yourself removed from the council, JAguar."

Jag's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"If you cannot attempt a mending, then the council has no use for you."

"You're dealings with them are going to destroy this caravan, just as they nearly five years-"

"One wolf does not condemn the entire race."

"But it is cause for caution!" Jag snapped.

"What you speak of is not caution but segregation and prejudice!" Kurt replied. "And it has no place on the council."

Jag shook his head. "You're a fool, Walker." He turned from Kurt and Mercedes, and walked away.

Kurt sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder toward Mercedes. She still stood in front of the door, her eyes glaring at Jag as he walked away. Her fists were balled up tightly, blood dripping from the deep cuts from her nails. Her ridged fins were still exposed. Kurt sighed again, she had done so well in the past five years. She'd held off for so long without giving in to her anger. "Mercedes."

Mercedes look at her father, breaking her concentration. She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. She opened her palms, allowing the blood to freely drip from her hands. Her fins and nails retracted into her body, returning her to a human illusion. Mercedes sighed heavily, staring down at her bloody hands. "I'm sorry."

Kurt shook his head. "There's no need to apologize, Mercedes. We've been ignoring the issue for five years, it was bound to happen when I decided to reopen working with the packs again. Go inside, I'll talk with Jaguar."

Mercedes nodded and stepped back into her trailer. SHe walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. She placed her hands beneath the water. THe blood washed away with the water as the puncture marks knitted themselves together beneath the water. Within a few seconds, the blood, the marks, and all physical evidence of her shift were gone; save for her dress. That matter could be dealt with later, but now she had her baby to tend to. Turing off the faucet, Mercedes wiped her hands on the dish towel and tossed it aside. She kicked off her heels and left them in the kitchen. She walked down the small hall toward the only bedroom. She tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. The only light in the bedroom originated from a small start nightlight. Mercedes knew every inch of th bedroom. She moved from the door to the left, toward the closet. She slowly slid open the door, revealing a pile of blankets on the floor. She knelt beside the pile and slowly pulled back each one until she uncovered Bentley's head. Hiding in the closet had been his safety net since he could crawl. When he overhear any argument, he buried himself beneath the blankets and covered his ears.

Mercedes took Bentley into her arms. His tiny arms wrapped around her neck. She stood from the floor and walked to the bed. She gently set Bentley down in the bed and settled in right beside him. She drew up the blankets and kissed his forehead. Bentley snuggled against his mother, clutching the blankets around his body. Mercedes sighed heavily, she couldn't keep doing this to her son. He needed to feel safe, and he wasn't safe with her family.

* * *

so it's short, I know, i'm sorry. kinda just wanted to show a glimpse of the family tension. didn't plan on showing what Mercedes is capable of but...eh it happened. Hope it didn't disappoint.

REVIEWS ARE LOVE!


	8. Tarot Reading

"Dude stop looking at your phone!" Stiles ordered. "You've got,l ike a nine hour difference between California and France."

"I know that." Scott mumbled with annoyance. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and sighed heavily.

"Then stop torturing yourself and ignore the damn phone!" Stile explained. He shook his head as he led Scott through Main Street. "It's unbelievable."

Scott looked around the street. "I wouldn't say that. I mean it's cool and all-"

"Not that." Stile said. "You! I mean, you two barely survive her family, then the whole Jackson-Kanima lizard thing, and the oh so fun pack of Alpha's...still having nightmares by the way, and you two are great. No problems. But come summer vacation and you can't stand to be separated. You're unbelievable!"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Alright, I get it. I need to relax."

Stiles snorted and swung his arm over Scott's shoulder. "Dude, you're a teenage Alpha wolf, who's pinning for his girl. How in the hell can you relax."

Scott turned toward Stiles. "Thanks man."

Stiles smiled and gave Scott's chest a pat. "That's what I'm here for. Now let's do some snooping."

"Right, because people snoop in the middle of the day in earshot of the people." Scott said.

"Dude, what better time than when they're distracted?" Stiles asked. They walked down Main Street, slowly passing row after row of covered wagons. Stiles moved toward one of the covered tents where the vendor gold hand blown glass figurines and jewelry. Stiles picked up a purple glass pendant. It was a star wrapped in a small wire cage. "Besides, you and Derek got all freaked out last night, don't you think we should look into the caravan? You Lydia would wear this?"

Scott shrugged. "Maybe? You're the one who like her, why don't you know? Anyways it wasn't the entire population of the gypsy's, Stiles. It was just one. It was just Mercedes. When she dances-"

"Yeah I remember Derek throwing me out of the club last night." Stiles replied. he looked at the vendor. "How much?"

The vendor was a young woman wearing a bright green tank top and faded blue jeans. She looked up from her book and looked at the necklace in Stiles' hand. "Ten dollars."

"Ten dollars? You serious?" Stiles asked.

"It glows in the dark." she answered, going back to her book.

Stiles raised the pendant higher, giving it a closer look. "Really?" He covered the pendant in darkness in his hands and peeked inside. True enough, the purple star glows in his hands. "Sold." he fished out his wallet and laid out the money. Stiles pocketed the pendant and started down the line of vendors again. "So Mercedes is some kind of creature that can make every man do her bidding. Sounds like a normal thing hot woman can do. I've seen it work a thousand times."

Scott frowned and looked at Stiles. There were days he questioned his friends way of thinking. "What?"

"Seriously dude?" Stiles asked. "Allison is a clear choice there. And let's not forget Miss Blake's effect on Derek, nor-"

"Lydia's effect on you?" Scott finished with a smile.

Stiles nodded. "Yep. Lydia is a prime example of using what God gave her to seduce men. The only difference is that apparently Mercedes doesn't have control, right?"

Scott nodded. "That's what Derek suggested last night after he left. I mean, if she had a target in mind, you'd think she'd focus on him, instead the entire floor was drooling over her."

"All but you and Derek." Stile mentioned. "Is it a werewolf thing where you two aren't effected, but still fall for the dangerous and deadly hot babes?"

"For the sake of Derek overhearing, I'm not going to answer that." Scott replied. "But I think you're right. It might be the werewolf side protecting us from whatever she was doing."

Stiles came to a slow stop. "How old do you think she is?"

"Who Mercedes?" Scott asked.

Stiles frowned. "No the vender who sold me the necklace. Yes dumbass, Mercedes."

Scott shrugged again. "I don't know. Older than us, but she couldn't be older than Derek."

Stiles gave a vague nod. "That puts her in the twenty-two to twenty-three range."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Scott asked.

"What if she was turned into...whatever the hell she is?" Stiles offered.

Scott thought it over. Back when he first turned he had no control over anything. Hearing, smelling, and the animal drive was nearly impossible to ignore. Perhaps Mercedes was the same. "Maybe, but we don't even know what she is."

"I thought Derek was on that." Stiles stated. "I mean, that's why you brought your stolen copy of Argent's Beastiary out here, to give to Derek."

Scott nodded. "Yeah, but-"

"I mean, we're out in public, looking for Derek, snooping on the gypsies, while we're carrying a pirated copy of Argent's family book in your pocket, planning to give it to the guy who caused our whole lives to go to hell, and we have no idea where the hell sourwolf is." Stiles ranted, waving his hands dramatically.

"Will you shut up Stiles." Scott hissed. "Someone's going to hear you and i don't want to get into a fight with them. Especially when I don't know what they are."

Stiles shut his mouth. "Yeah. Okay, good idea." He looked around, making sure no one had heard them. Surprisingly, no one was nearby to watch them. "So uh...where's Derek?"

Scott turned toward the park. "Probably keeping watch on Mercedes."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm sure he is."

Scott didn't respond to Stiles' remark. He knew very well what his friend was implying and Scott didn't want any part of it. What Derek did with his time was his choice and Scott wasn't going to pry into it...unless it brought danger to the pack and Beacon Hills. Whatever attention Derek felt the need to give Mercedes, it was too early to tell if they were in danger or not. So that meant someone needed to watch Mercedes closely. Derek was already on good terms with her, so it made sense to have him on watch. It didn't hurt that Derek wasn't dating anyone either. Scott doubted Derek would take any action with Mercedes without remembering was Miss Blake did, no matter how much they all wanted to forget. Derek wasn't one to make the same mistake twice, not intentionally anyways. Plus, Derek was the one to warn them about Mercedes.

The boys crossed the street to the park. They weaved around the wagons, searching for the preforming tent Derek had told them about the night before. They had only seen the street vendors the day before. Scott had left early on to work at the clinic and Stiles had no desire to roam by himself, so he had left when Scott did. The park was something they had yet to see.

"I sense there is much on your minds." came a low voice.

Scott and Stiles came to a stop beside a covered wagon. A woman stood beside the steps of a brightly colored wagon. The wagon was made of wood, and stood a good few feet taller than the covered wagons. The base color was a raspberry hue, accented with rich yellow. The half door hung open beside the woman. She was Melissa McCall's age, at least. Her dark, curled hair was covered with a scarf and tied tightly. She wore a loose, flowing sleeved cropped shirt that revealed her slender waist and flat stomach. Her coin belt hung around her jean clad hips as she stood barefoot in the grass.

"You are worried about someone." she continued. "Not one, but two. One close, and one stranger."

"Dude, creepy." Stiles whispered.

"How did you-?"

The woman smiled and held out a hand toward her wagon. "Follow me, and I shall tell you more."

"Look, we really don't have time for all this-"

The woman looked at Stiles. "You lost your mother."

Stiles grew still. "How did you-?"

"Sickness, wasn't it?" she asked.

Stiles nodded slowly.

The woman turned to Scott again. "You carry a large burden for someone so young." She turned and walked up the yellow steps into the wagon.

Scott stared after her for a moment. Should he go in or not? She couldn't be dangerous and her predictions had been spot on so far. Scoot took a breath and walked toward the steps.

stiles grabbed his arm. "Are you insane?"

Scott shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because this whole scene is bogus." Stiles explained.

"She was right, though." Scott answered. He brushed Stiles' arm from his and followed the woman into the wagon. The scent of incense quickly caught his senses as he walked up the steps. He dipped beneath the half curtains and stepped into the wagon.

The sun was nearly completely blotted out inside the wagon, but Scott's eyes could easily depict out every detail. On the left wall was an assortment of vials of flower petals, canvas tapestries of tarot figures, and star charts. Antique lanterns hung in three points in the wagon, two near the front of the wagon, and one directly above the center, where the gypsy sat. In front of her was a small wooden table draped in a multicolored linen.

"Sit." She said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Scott cautiously took his seat across from the gypsy.

She smiled politely and reached for a deck of cards. Scott watched intently as she shuffled them with great care. She carefully drew one card and laid it face down on the table. She drew another, repeating the process twice before finishing. Three cards lay face down between them. The woman looked down at the cards and then slowly back up at Scott. "I can see you are heavily troubled by something, young man."

"How?" Scott asked.

She leaned over toward him. "People spend hours a day trying to hide their emotions, but they always forget the most important window."

"The eyes?" Scott asked.

The woman nodded with a smile. "Exactly. I can see in your eyes, that something weighs down on you. Far more than a young man your age should have to bear." She looked down at the cards between them. "Each one represents a stage in our life; the past, the present, and the future." She reached down toward the first card and turned it over. "The Fool."

Scott sighed heavily.

The woman chuckled. "Don't worry, its meaning is not what you assume. The Fool represents your past. He is known for being carefree. At points he is not aware of his potential or of other ways to achieve it. He simply seeks to work through his own path at his own pace."

She turned the center card, revealing a regal looking woman seated upon a throne. The gypsies brows rose. "Your present reads the High Priestess."

Scott watched the gypsy closely. "What does that mean?"

Her eyes drew to Scott. He caught the cautious tone in her voice as she answered. "She is a difficult read. In most cases, she symbolizes the great potential within someone. She is also known as the balance in the world. That is very interesting." She came to the final card, revealing a king seated on his throne wielding a single sword. "Your future reads the King of Swords."

Scott picked up her increasing heart rate. "Is that bad?"

"No. No, not at all." She answered quickly. "It's juts...an interesting combination of cards."

Scott watched her intently. Something was wrong with the reading, or something was wrong with the woman. Her heart beat had increased by several beats and Scott could see a slight shake in her hands beside the cards. "What does he symbolize?"

"The King of Swords symbolizes a great judge, fair, and he is also a warrior. He commands and follows commands as well." she explained. "What this all means is that in your past, you were carefree, as children often are, but there was an event in your life that changed your lifestyle. That change has now altered your entire life and has brought the potential of turning you in a great leader."

Scott nodded slowly. Maybe Derek was right after all, maybe Scott was cut out to be an Alpha?

"May I see you hand?" she asked, carefully reaching across the table.

Scott turned his hand palm up and held it toward the gypsy. Her soft hands took his and tilt his palm toward her. Scott watched the gypsy each passing second. He watched her eyes grow wide and heard her heart beat tripled. She threw his hand to the table and burst from her seat, fear filling her eyes.

"Get out!" she screamed. _"__Ie__și afară!"_

Scott stumbled out of his chair and quickly raced through the door. He jumped the stairs, landing on the ground beside Stiles. Stiles jumped from the stairs as Scott landed beside him. Scott grabbed Stiles and pulled him from the wagon, further into the park. The gypsies screams echoed in his head as they quickly moved away.

"Dude, what the hell happened in there?" Stile asked, pulling his arm from Scott's grip.

"I don't know!" Scott cried. "One minute she reading the card and then next she's freaking out about my palm reading!"

Stiles frowned in confusion. "What did you do? show her your claws?"

"No!" Scott replied. "But whatever she saw freaked her out enough to send me out without paying her."

"Huh." Stiles mumbled, looking back toward the wagon. "Well, it wasn't enough to get my dad after us. Not yet anyways."

"That's really not helping Stiles." Scott replied.

Stiles shrugged. "Look, man, it was fake. Palm reading, tarot cards, crystal balls, all faked. She probably screamed to freak you out. And it worked pretty damn well, if I say so myself."

Scott shook his head. "No. No that's not it. You didn't hear her heart beat when she read the cards. She was afraid of something."

"Okay, so, what are you going to do?" Stiles asked. "I mean, you can't go back to her and ask."

Scott thought for a moment. "Not her, but maybe someone else."

Stiles' eyes grew wide. "Oh dude, come one! You can't be serious!"

Scott turned and started walking toward the assembly tents. "Derek needs the Beastiary anyways, Mercedes will be nearby. She's the only one who hasn't freaked out on us since we met her. She also knows everyone in the caravan, maybe she can tell us if that gypsy was a fake or if she really saw something."

"Anybody else getting a feeling of déjà vu?" Stiles asked to no one in particular. "No? Just me? Great wonderful. You know i think this is a bad idea!" He called following Scott.

* * *

okay I'm back! Sorry for the large gap between updates, I blame work. okay, so for anyone wondering, this is AU. Some stuff happened, other's didn't. Some characters will make an appearance, other's won't. (Malia, Breaden, Liam, Boyd, Erica ect. NOT APPEARING)

So let me know what you think.

translations

_Ie__și afară! _werewolf


	9. More Questions

Derek stood several yards from the performance tent in the park. Just like the day before, a large crowd had gathered earl around the tent, waiting for the first performance. And as the hours passed, the crowd grew larger as the number of spectators joined the onlookers. Derek remained where he was, leaning up against a nearby tree, always watching Mercedes. He'd stood at the tree and watch three of her performances and kept an eye out for her during her off sessions. She never ventured out of the tent on her off session, nor did she make any speeches to the crowd. She would be cordial and polite, smiling and waving to the crowd, but Derek could see there was something distracting her. The only time it faded away was when she was performing, when the shadow would seemingly lift from her face.

She stood in front of the crowd, wearing an entirely different outfit from the previous day. To his surprise, Derek found this performance outfit more appropriate for wore a black halter that stopped halfway down her stomach and matching tight shorts. Both were decorated in coin belts, chains, and sashes. Her legs were far from bare. From her ankles to her thighs, she wore netting stockings and numerous jewelry bands that jangled with each step. her hands and feet bore thin chains that connected to a ring around her center finger or toe. Her hair was mass of thick braids piled around her head and draping over her right shoulder. Watching her move in front of the crowd was like watching a different woman entirely.

A light tug from his jeans caught Derek's attention. He looked down, immediately finding the brown top of Bentley's head. His small hand still held a handful of Derek's jeans. Bentley wore light blue jeans and a white tee shirt.

Derek pushed himself off the tree and knelt down beside Bentley. "Hey."

"Mommy sent me to tell you it's rude to stare." Bentley explained, before Derek could say anything else.

Derek held back his smirk and looked over toward Mercedes. She was well into her performance, using her scarf this time. It figured she would notice him, she was too damn observant not to. "She did? Well, she's right."

"Then how come you're doing it?" Bentley asked. His voice was laced with curiosity.

Derek thought for a moment. How far could he go before Bentley caught his lie? If his senses didn't pick up the lie, Bentley could easily tell something was off. He was young, but he wasn't oblivious...unlike Stiles. He couldn't very well tell the kid that he didn't trust his mother. No one responded well to threats on family members. Derek took a slow breath before he answered. "I need to keep an eye on your mom. And you."

Bentley frowned. "Why?"

Derek shrugged. "Sometimes Beacon Hills isn't safe."

"Why?" Bentley looked out toward his mother. "Mama knows how to fight."

This time, Derek couldn't hide his smirk. He followed Bentley's look at Mercedes. He nodded slowly. "I bet."

"Derek!"

Derek turned quickly, finding Scott rushing toward him with Stiles not too far behind. He stood from the ground and folded his arms. He had expected the boys to drop by earlier, but frankly, Derek counted himself lucky they showed up at all. "Did you bring it?"

Scott nodded and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the flash drive and handed it to Derek. "We may have another problem."

Derek looked up from the drive at Scott. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that-"

"One of the fortune tellers freaked out at Scott." Stiles explained quickly. "I mean, majorly freaked out, screaming, yelling. She called him...uh...something right before he ran out of her wagon."

Derek frowned. "What did you do?"

"That's just it, nothing!" Scott explained. "She was reading tarot cards and then she wanted to look at my palm. Next thing i know, she's screaming and telling me to get out."

Derek folded his arms. "That doesn't make any sense."

"He's a werewolf." Bentley called, suddenly reminding the boys of his presence.

Scott and Stiles both jumped and looked down at the boy. Derek quickly looked around the crowd and said a silent prayer of thanks that no one had heard him. They were still enthralled by his mother's dance. Bentley simply stood beside Derek, looking up at Scott.

"Dude how in the hell does-"

Bentley frowned. "Not s'posed to say that word."

Stiles blinked, completely caught off guard by the four year old in front of him

Derek grabbed Bentley's arm and pulled him further from the crowd. "He knows because he is one. Half of one, anyways."

Scott and Stiles followed Derek from the crowd. Scott looked down at the boy. "But I thought they don't-"

"They don't." Derek answered, coming to a stop. "He's Mercedes' son."

Scott turned to Stiles who seemed to be having just as much difficulty understanding what Derek had just revealed to them.

"Bentley, this is Scott and Stiles." Derek said. "Scott's the Alpha in Beacon Hills."

Bentley's eyes grew wide. "Whoa."

Scott chuckled. "You could say that."

"My mama said she met the Alpha." Bentley replied, his excitement growing. "he said Alpha eyes are different colors than mine!"

Scott nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah they are."

"Can you show me?"

"Show you what?"

The entire group jumped as Mercedes appeared behind them. Stiles staggered to the ground behind Scott, clutching his chest. Scott spun around in surprise. The only one who didn't seemed effected was Bentley, who quickly rushed to hug his mother. Mercedes lifted Bentley into her arms, settling him on her hip.

"You said Alpha's have different color eyes." Bentley explained. "I wanted to see Scott's eyes."

Mercedes nodded slowly. "Ah, I see. I'm glad you asked and were polite, but Scott can't show you his eyes."

"Why not?"

"Because there's too many people around." Mercedes explained. "If anyone see's his eyes, they'll get scared of him."

The answer wasn't what Bentley clearly wanted, but he didn't have much of a choice.

Mercedes turned to Derek. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him...again."

"He found me." Derek explained.

"Not surprising." Mercedes replied . She turned to leave. "Say bye, Bentley."

Bentley didn't say goodbye, but he did wave to the boys.

"Hey, wait." Scott called.

Mercedes turned. "Yes?"

"Back at the wagon, there was a fortune-teller who got really freaked out by me." Scott explained.

Mercedes frowned. "Did you show your claws or eyes?"

Scott rolled his eyes. why was everyone asking if he made the simplest mistake. He was still new to the werewolf life, but he wasn't **brand** new to it. "No. I didn't do anything. She read some cards and looked at my palm and freaked out."

"Oh." Mercedes said.

"That's it?" Stiles asked, standing from the ground. "Oh? He tells you one of your people freaked out and you say 'oh'?"

Mercedes shrugged. "She read his palm. I'm not surprised she reacted that way. Very few of us are comfortable interacting with werewolves. Like I said when we met."

"how did she know?" Derek asked.

"She read his palm." Mercedes answered with ease.

Scott frowned. "How does she know I'm a werewolf by my palm?"

"Show me your palm." Mercedes stated.

Scott hesitantly lifted his palm toward Mercedes.

"Didn't know you're a palm reader." Derek mentioned.

"I'm not." Mercedes replied. "Not as good as some of the others, but we all learn the basics. Bring up your palm too."

"Why?"

"Because you're about to learn something interesting." Mercedes answered.

Derek sighed heavily but did as he was told.

"Alright, you see valley's between your four fingers?" Mercedes asked.

Scott nodded.

"Just below them are three lines that travel down your palm and meet together just above your wrist." she explained.

Scott looked at his palm. His eyes quickly found the three lines that Mercedes explained. And as she said, they came together just a few centimeters above his wrist. He looked over at Derek's palm and noticed the lines were different. "What about Derek?"

Mercedes looked at Derek's palm. "Derek was born a werewolf. You were bitten. The length of the lines determines whether you were born or bitten. Sense Derek's lines reach from the valley down to his wrist, he was born. Your lines are shorter, signifying that you were turned."

"So Bentley's are the same as Derek's then." Stile stated.

"Not quite."

"But you just said-"

Mercedes nodded. "Derek was born a werewolf. Bentley' is **half** werewolf. His palm lines match the pattern of theirs, but the three lines are spread out further."

"So I didn't do anything wrong?" Scott asked.

"Nothing." Mercedes answered. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Scott nodded slowly. "Good. I thought I was gonna have to deal with a crazy gypsy coming after me." His eyes widened. "Dude, that's not what I meant."

Mercedes laughed. "Relax. Some of the fortune tellers are...different. Out of curiosity, which one did you visit?"

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't get her name."

"Yeah, too busy screaming in another language." Stiles explained.

Mercedes frowned. "What?"

"Yeah, she screamed something at me after telling me to get out." Scott explained.

"What did she say?"

Scott frowned. "Uh...some...something like..._Isi afa_?"

_"__Ie__și afară!"_ Mercedes corrected. "It's the Romanian word for, _werewolf_."

"So it's not a gypsy curse that'll haunt Scott for the rest of his life?" Stiles asked.

All eyes shifted to Stiles. Scott and Derek couldn't understand what went through Stiles' head sometimes. Bentley seemed to think the boy was funny and smiled. Mercedes looked completely confused by the teen.

"Is he human?" she asked.

Stiles opened his mouth to defend himself, but Derek beat him to the punch. "The juries still out on that."

Mercedes nodded. "Ah. Well, if you boys are finished terrorizing my friends, Bentley and I are going home now. If you plan on remaining here, i'd suggest avoiding fortunetellers altogether."

Stiles nodded, giving her a thumbs up. "Yeah, we'll definitely do that. No more fortunetellers. Bad idea."

Mercedes slowly turned from Stiles toward Derek. "How long exactly is that jury going to be out?"

It took all of Derek's self control not to burst out laughing, but he didn't have enough not to keep a small smirk from forming. Scott was a different story entirely. He burst out laughing beside Stiles, overhearing Mercedes remark. "Indefinitely."

"Too bad." She replied. "I'm curious what he could be."

"Feelings mutual in your case, too." Derek mentioned.

A small smile formed on her lips. "You're smart boys. I have no doubt you will figure it out. Though how quickly you do is another matter entirely." She turned and began walking toward the park exit.

"Oh, Mercedes!" Scott called.

Once more, Mercedes turned her attention to the boy. "Yes?"

"How accurate are tarot readings?" he asked.

Mercedes smirked. "You're not going to die if you were showed the 'Death' card, Scott."

"No, I know that." Scott replied. "And I didn't get that card. I'm just curious how accurate the readings are, because the fortune teller said that I had an interesting read."

"Well, it'll depend on who was reading your cards." Mercedes answered.

"You said all of you know how to read the cards." Stiles informed.

Mercedes nodded. "Yes, but some of us actually have the _gift_ of reading them. Some of the tellers are there merely for show to raise profit for the caravan. Everyone needs to pull their weight."

"See, it was just a gag." Stiles said, turning back to Scott.

Mercedes ignored Stiles remark. "What were your cards?"

"The fool." Stiles snickered. "The High Priestess, and The King of Swords." Scott explained. "In that order."

Mercedes was silent for a moment, clearly deep in thought. Scott watched her as each second passed, waiting for what it meant. He listened for any erratic flutter from her body, but nothing came. "That is an interesting combination of cards. Considering the number of cards in a tarot deck and the chances of drawing these **three** and placing them in the direct position. It is very interesting. However, the accuracy is also going to depend on _who_ the reader was."

"Uh, I didn't get her name." Scott explained.

"That's all right." Mercedes replied. "I know everyone, just describe her wagon."

Scott looked confused. "Uh...well it was purple, actually."

That caught Mercedes attention instantly. Derek caught the sound of the quiet heart beat quickening. He arched a brow and watched her closely. He hadn't see anything that could cause her heart rate to speed up yet. What was so important about this gypsy that set Mercedes off?

"Golden colored trim?" Mercedes asked.

Scott nodded. "Yeah, that's the one."

Bentley piped up. "That's grandma's wagon!"

Derek watched Mercedes closely.

Mercedes nodded slowly." Yes, that's grandma's wagon." she lifted her gaze to Scott. "I wouldn't be too concerned with you're reading. My mother's not the best reader in the caravan."

**BLIP!**

Derek tensed slightly. He caught Scott glanced toward him, but kept his focus on Mercedes.

"Enjoy the festival." Mercedes said. She turned once again and walked away. Bentley looked over her shoulder and waved goodbye.

Stiles gave a half hearted wave after them. Derek and Scott both waved back to Bentley, not wanting the boy to sense anything amiss.

"Well that was a waste of time." Stiles said, turning to Scott. "Can we ever go a day without having an abnormal conversation with people?"

Scott turned to Derek. "You caught that, right?"

Stiles frowned. "What?" Caught what?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah. I caught it."

"She's so quiet, I didn't think I'd catch anything."

"Same here." Derek mentioned. He turned to leave the opposite edge of the park.

"What?"

"Her heart beat." Derek answered without slowing his pace. Scott followed behind him.

Stiles was quiet for a moment. He looked over toward Mercedes and Bentley retreating and turned back to Scott and Derek. "She was lying?"

Scott nodded. "When I asked about her mom."

"So her mom isn't a fake?" Stiles asked.

"Doesn't look that way." Derek answered.

"Why would she lie about her mom?" Scott asked.

"Dude, maybe it has something to do with the card reading?" Stiles suggested.

"Either way, we need to know why she lied to us." Derek explained.

"How? We can't just tell her we caught her lie, and force her to tell us the truth." Stiles replied.

They exited the park. Derek walked toward his car parked just down the street. Nothing made sense. he could think of a dozen better reasons for lying about her family. This wasn't just about the reading or how her mother was a better reader than what she'd said. There was something else going on and they needed to know what. But as much as Derek hated to admit it, Stiles was right. Mercedes wasn't one to offer information when she didn't want to. But a blunt confrontation was probably their best chance.

"I'll take my chances." Derek explained, reaching his car.

Stiles stopped. "You know, I'm still not understanding why it has to be you who goes and talks to her."

"Because you'll drool all over yourself and Scott's not ready for a confrontation yet." Derek answered.

Scott frowned. "You really think she's going to fight?"

Derek paused. "Not a physical fight, but she's going to resist a hell of a lot more now that she's hiding something. It's not going to be easy."

"Then maybe we should all go." Scott suggested.

Derek shook his head. "No. If we all go, then she could take it as a threat. _That_ could end in a physical confrontation and we still don't know what she's capable of. I'll go."

Scott reluctantly nodded. "Calls us when you know...something."

Derek nodded and opened his door. He climbed into his car and started the engine. He rolled down the window. "Stay out fo the festival until we know what we're dealing with."

* * *

not dead! yay! I'm sorry for the lengthy gaps between chapters. Inspiration comes and goes, especially with the season ending and working. I hope this wasn't too bland. I

m working on the next chapter as we speak, bare with me, there's gonna be a lot of tarot readings. Just FYI, I know nothing about tarot readings, I looked everything up online and went with it.

Yeah, not sure what else there is to say...except

REVIEW!


	10. Not Enough Answers

There wasn't a lot of time. Barely any. She had pushed her luck too far now, and it was time for her luck to run out. She knew well enough that Derek and Scott had caught her lie in the park. Even with a quiet heart beat, they could still hear it, there was no denying they hadn't. Which meant that they were going to want answers. And answers, are exactly what Mercedes wanted right now. There was only one way to get them though.

Mercedes sat at her table in the living room of her trailer. She shuffled her old tarot deck in her hands and concentrated. Bentley was off in his room playing, so her concentration would be at its fullest. Mercedes took a deep breath and focused on Beacon Hills. The town was a literal 'beacon' for the other world and her mother's reading of Scott this afternoon wasn't just a simple reading or coincidence. There was something coming. Something that would involve them all. It wasn't just her who saw it, everyone in the caravan could sense it. Bentley, Ford, Jaguar, they could sense it. There was something coming because of this town. Mercedes took her cards and laid them out in the traditional Celtic Cross. She laid out her ten cards, placing them in the precise location. One card lay in the center. One card was placed to the right and left, and above and below. Another card overlay the center card. Final, four cards lay to the right of the cross. She lid the remaining deck to the left and began with the center card.

The Tower. The falling of the old ways to make way for new ways. That was the **_Present_**.

She turned the card across the Tower, revealing a single sword. The Ace. The Ace of Swords. A battle was coming. Either physical or verbal it was coming. **_The Immediate Challange._**

Mercedes took a deep breath. Already two cards into her reading and she dreaded what was to come. She wanted to end it, to return the cards to the deck and forget, but there was too much at stake. Her entire family, the caravan, the pack, possibly the town was at stake. If there was a battle to come, she needed to know what every outcome could be. She reached for the third card, locating to the right of the center cards; **_The Distant Past._**

She reached for the lower card, revealing a woman sitting upon some kind of throne being carried by two inverse colored sphinx. Symbolistic to control emotions. The Chariot. Someone was trying to control their emotions. **_The Recent Past_**.

The top card revealed a figure in a black cloak showing its face standing in a desert surrounded by five golden cups. Mercedes took a deep breath. Five of cups was symbolic to sadness and grief. **_The Best Outcome_**. The reading was quickly growing worse.

"What the hell is going on?" she muttered to herself. She reached for the left card, Judgment. The day of reckoning and atonement. **_Immediate Future_**.

Mercedes slammed her hands down on the table. "Damnit!" She lowered her face into her hands.

How in the hell could this be happening? What was the point of this if everything would end terribly? She took a deep breath and reached for the lower card on the right side; **_Factors Affecting Situation_**. She revealed a man placing seven staffs in the earth. Seven of Wands. It symbolized courage. Courage in a time of need. To face what was coming someone needed to find the courage to face it. She reached for the next card, revealing a man seated on a thrown in a red robe; The Heirophant. The many sides of life. The many sides to this confrontation? **_The External Influences_**. The next card revealed a man sitting beneath a tree with four golden cups beside him. The Four of Cups. the card leading up to the Five of Cups. It symbolized around love. Moderation, adoration, and devotion. **_Hopes and fEar_**. Who would fear of the loss of loved once, or hope for their safety.

Mercedes swallowed and reached for the final card. A knight dressed in black armor was seated upon a white horse. Its helmet was lifted from its face, revealing a skull head within the helmet. The horse stood before a robed man. A cold chill ran through Mercedes body. Death. Not a symbol of death itself but a symbol of a drastic change to come, placed in the final section.**_ Final Outcome_**.

Mercedes shook her head and gathered her cards once more. She needed more than just this. What part did everyone play in this...this challange?

Scott. She laid out three cards and set her deck to the by one, she unveiled his three cards; The Fool, The High Priestess, and the King of Swords. Mercedes cursed internally. she'd prayed that she'd been wrong, but it seemed that fate was set in its ways about her mother's reading. Though the cards themselves were not disastrous, the timing was most inconvenient to her family. To read that the young Alpha had great potential, after rebuking their kind for years, it was no the greatest way to rekindle a much need cordial relationship between them.

Mercedes sighed heavily and reshuffled her deck. She laid three cards and returned the deck to the side of th table. Her hand came to the first of her cards and revealed her reading card by card. The Hermit, the Queen of Cups, and The Star. Mercedes leaned back in her chair and took in the reading. Her life was there before her. The great betrayal that had shattered her in her past, the secrets she harbored so closely to herself, and the possibility that nothing was lost at all. Mercedes frowned and stared at the Star. It was also known for the reader to seek guidance. But what did that have to do with the Beacon Hills Pack? She needed more answers. She gathered the cards and began anew.

This time, she read her brother Jaguar. His hostility toward the pack would no doubt show more of what part he would play in whatever was coming. If there was indeed a battle within the next few das, she would not be surprised to find her brother in the midst of it. She revealed the Ace of Swords, The Devil, and The Emperor. A battle, influenced choices, and command. Mercedes didn't understand the use of the Ace in his past, but the remaining two cards only increased her apprehension for what was to come.

She gathered her cards and shuffled once more, this time reading for her father. After she was done, she needed to talk to him about everything; the pack, the readings; the feeling she had. Kurt needed to know everything. She laid out his three cards and laid the desk to the side. One by one Mercedes revealed the past, present, and future. The Fool, The Empress, Death. Carefree, potential, and a new change.

More questions than answers. Mercedes gathered the deck and paused. Who would she read for this time. There had to be more than the four of them involved. Mercedes laid out three cards, reading for Derek. With Scott being so young, he was no doubt new to his Alpha status. Derek knew a lot more about their world, he would be involved in whatever was coming. Especially if it pertained to his Alpha. His cards revealed The Hermit, Strength, and The Star. Something tragic had separated Derek from the outside world in his past, but he had found the strength to become who he is, yet he still needed guidance?

This was getting her nowhere. She laid out another set, this time it was Starlin. The woman had started this mess and it was time Mercedes read her adoptive mother's cards to know what was coming for her. The Lovers, King of Cups, and Death greeted Mercedes eyes. There was no ounce of surprise in Mercedes to find The Lovers in her mother's past. Though it didn't always pertain to romance, and ranged between men and women in their different ways of dependency, Mercedes knew her mother's past all too well. And this card was a literal meaning. The King of Cups was inverted, meaning that Starlin was a poison than a healer. Mercedes looked down at the Death card. THe second time she'd drawn it. First her father, now Starlin. Whatever change was coming would effect them both.

Mercedes gathered her cards and leaned her arms against the table. So many thoughts clouded her mind but nothing had a definite answer for her. Why couldn't she see what was coming? She turned her head toward Bentley's bedroom door and listened to her son play in the next room, completely oblivious to his mother's distress...for the moment. Her son had been a blessing in disguise so many years ago. Mercedes wouldn't trade one day for a mere glimpse of a life without her son. She reached for her cards and laid out one last set. Ace of Swords, Page of Cups, and The Empress. Mercedes frowned at the selection before her. How could Bentley have the Ace of Swords? The card was known to be doubled edged, carrying risks for both choices, but Bentley could have nothing so significant in his past. Not as his age. The Page of Cups was no surprise. Bentley was after all, a child. The Page referred to children often in their carefree ways. The Empress, however, surprised her greatly.. She had always been concerned how his dual bloodline would effect him, The Empress further intrigued her further.

Mercedes sighed heavily and gathered her cards. She rose from her seat. "Benny." She slipped her cards back into the velvet black pouch and stuffed the pouch into beneath pillows of the sofa, where a storage compartment lay. "Benny!"

"Yeah?" Bentley asked, peeking his head out of his door.

"I need to go visit grandma. Do you want to come with me or see Aunt Holly?" she asked.

"Aunt Holly!" Bentley cheered.

Mercedes smiled. "Well come on then!"

Bentley scurried from his room toward his mother. Mercedes took Bentley's hand and opened the front door. Outside, the sun was starting to set over the California sky. Mercedes stepped down the stairs and Bentley hopped down after her. She locked her trailer behind them and stared through the park. Bentley hopped along beside him mother, swinging his arms at each step.

Holly was Lincoln's wife of six years and Mercedes only friend in the entire caravan. She had been on vacation in India and met Lincoln in his shop. Mercedes had watched the very quick blossoming relationship. And when Holly was leaving the area, Lincoln followed after her. When he came back, Holly was with him. Her integration into the traveling life was fairly easy for her and she quickly found her place with Mercedes in dancing. Holly had been a constant support throughout Mercedes pregnancy and treated Bentley as she would her own children. Holly's trailer was a few slots down from theirs. It was a full-sized camper RV, since it was used to house both Holly, Lincoln, and their twin daughters. Mercedes didn't understand how they managed the space, but since she never once heard her brother or Holly complain about it, it mustn't be a problem for them. Though she wondered how much longer that would be, since Mercedes knew that Holly was pregnant. Lincoln wasn't aware just yet, but Mercedes had every hint that Holly would tell him soon. Seeing as how Holly would hardly be able to dance for much longer.

THey reached the camper to find Holly seated out front with Aubry and Gabriella. Both girls had their mother's fiery red hair, but held the familiar shape of their father's face. Holly sat in a camping chair while her daughters played on the ground with their dolls. Her feet were propped over the arm of her chair while she watched her daughters play. She looked up at Mercedes and Bentley and smiled.

"Hello Benny!" she called.

"Aunt Holly!" Bentley released his mother's hand and ran to his aunt.

Holly dropped her legs and took Bentley up into her lap. "Looks who's here girls. Benny!"

Both Aubry and Gabriella smiled at their cousin. Gabriella stood from the ground and walked over to Bentley, showing her his doll.

"I need to talk to Starlin, do you mind watching Ben for a little while?" Mercedes asked.

Holly shook her head. "Not at all."

Mercedes smiled. "THank you. I'll be back soon." She walked past the RV and headed for her mother's.

Starlin's RV was situated in the center of the RV park. In the center, where she liked to be the attention. Being the wife of the caravan head seemed to be equal to queen in the woman's mind. Her behavior was atrocious and one of the reasons why her relationship with Mercedes was so strenuous, among other reason. Mercedes easily made her way to the ostentatiously lavender colored RV. She marched to the door and beat her fist against it.

"Starlin!" Mercedes called.

From where she stood Mercedes could hear someone moving about the inside of the RV. She prepared herself for an unpleasant and unwanted scene to play out once the door opened, but to her surprise, it was Starlin who opened the door. Through the screen door, Mercedes could make out Starlin's disturbed look about her.

Starlin looked down at Mercedes. "I expected you to find me."

"Then you know?" Mercedes asked.

Starlin nodded. She pushed her door opened for Mercedes. "Come in."

Mercedes hesitantly entered Starlin's RV. Starlin moved toward the table just a few feet from the door. The lights were nearly completely extinguished, save for a few candles. her table was filled with tarot cards and a large crystal ball. Mercedes moved to one side of the table and took in the tarot cards, instantly recognizing the exact layout she had read earlier. Starlin settled herself opposite Mercedes.

"What did you see?" Mercedes asked.

"You read them yourself, you know very well what I saw." Starlin answered.

"I know the **cards**." Mercedes corrected. "You read the crystal."

"What I saw only confirms what was read." Starlin explained.

Mercedes slammed her hand on top of the table. The cards became disrupted and the crystal ball jumped from its perch. "Do not play games Starlin. You read the cards! Whatever you saw, I need to know!"

Starlin looked up at Mercedes. "Why so interested?"

"Because it involved all of us." Mercedes answered. "Not just the pack, but the caravan as well. So help me if something you know gets someone killed, I'll-"

"Save your threat." Starlin interrupted. "You know our rules of murder."

"And you know the rules of adultery, not that it's stopped you." Mercedes replied sharply. She knew very well how to play her mother's game of tongues. She knew where to strike and just how powerful too. "Jag and Ford are living proof of that."

Starlin's eyes narrowed dangerously at Mercedes.

Mercedes leaned over the table toward Starlin. "Let's forego the argument and stay on topic. What. Did. You. See."

Starlin looked down at her crystal ball. "Blood, quills, claws, and bone."

"In one instant?" Mercedes asked.

Starlin nodded. "In the forest. Outside of town by its appearance."

"What about faces?"

Starlin shook her head. "Nothing definite."

Mercedes nodded. So it would be a physical battle coming to Beacon Hills. Claws and quills. The pack would go against her brothers. Blood and bone, someone had a high probability of dying. Whatever was the trigger, Mercedes needed to find it and stop it. She pushed herself off the table and walked back to the door. She pushed it open and dropped back onto the pavement.

"If Jaguar and Ford are proof of my transgression, then what is that demon you call your son?" Starlin called, standing in the doorway.

Fury coursed through Mercedes veins. She felt the incredible urge to shift, but she fought it greatly. She turned back to face the vile woman. "Bentley is to me, what every child should be to their mother. Though I don't expect you to understand. My son is my treasure." She turned quickly and started her return toward Holly's RV.

"Little family tension?"

Mercedes spun around quickly. Her eyes fell on Derek's form, leaning against one of the RV's beside her. From his position, he was perfectly out of sight of anyone who should pass by, but that didn't mean he was welcome.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mercedes demanded.

"Same thing you are." Derek answered, stepping from the RV. "Getting answers."

"By eavesdropping?"

"You're the one who lied to us." Derek reminded.

Mercedes took a deep breath. "I had to."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to be sure what the threat was before informing your pack." Mercedes explained.

"Except you don't know anything." Derek reminded.

Mercedes stepped toward Derek. "And now you know all that I know. So I suggest you leave before someone see's you."

"Your mother's predicting a fight between your brothers and my pack." Derek stated. "I'm not leaving until I know why."

"How in the bloody hell should i know?" Mercedes yelled. "My brothers are short tempered bastards that tend to react before thinking clearly. Anything could trigger their temper, including a werwolf trespassing on an area they deem as their."

Derek stepped toward Mercedes. They were now just a few inches apart. "Then stop hiding things from us and help us stop the trigger."

"I can't." Mercedes answered. "I don't know what the trigger is. All I know is that my brothers don't like being in the service of werewolves. They go out of their way to avoid them at all costs. I have no idea what could trigger a fight between them. But you know as well as I do that the trigger could be anything. Jag is proof of that at the meeting."

"There has to be something tha can stop them." Derek pressed.

Mercedes thought for a moment. She didn't know much that could stop her brother, save for a paralytic to their system. But for a much less violent approach, she could alway depend on her father. "MY father. I need to talk to him. He wants to avoid a confrontation like this as much as you do. If I talk to him, tell him about the card readings and the images from Starlin, he'll have enough evidence to act."

Derek frowned. "That'll be enough?"

"We have different rules in the caravan." Mercedes explained. "Does tha work for you?"

"How soon can you talk to him?" Derek asked.

Mercedes reached into her pocket for her phone. "Soon."

"Mercedes!"

Mercedes turned. Briann was jogging through the street toward her. Mercedes looked toward Derek, only to find him gone. SMart. She turned her attention back to Briann just as she approached. "What is it?"

Briann pointed toward the entrance to the RV park. "THe Sheriff needs to speak with you. With your whole family actually."

Mercedes frowned. "Why?"

Briann shook her head. "He didn't say."

"Alright, go tell Holly." Mercedes said. She passed Briann and headed toward the front of the park. She jogged past Starlin's RV and weaved through the others until she reached the entrance.

Sheriff Stilinski stood at the entrance to the RV park. His police vehicle was parked not too far behind him. The engine was still running with the headlights on. Mercedes hadn't met the Sheriff, but she could see the resemblance between him and his son.

"Sheriff." Mercedes said as she approached him.

"Mercedes Walker?" he asked.

Mercedes nodded.

"I need to talk to your family. It's about your father." Sheriff Stilinski explained.

Mercedes felt a weight drop in the pit fo her stomach. "What's happened?"

Stilinski grimaced. "I think it's best to hear it all at once. Can you show me to your...house?"

Mercedes nodded slowly. "Everyone's heading toward Starlin's RV."

"Starlin?"

"My mother."

Mercedes led Sheriff Stilnski back through the RV's toward Starlin's residence. With every step she took she felt her heart beating harder and harder. She tried to keep her thoughts in order, no matter how concerning his presence was. AS they weaved through the park, Mercedes caught sight of Derek to her left. He watched her closely, his face seemingly full of concern. Mercedes turned her attention back as she reached Starlin's RV. She knocked on the door again. Starlin quickly answered the door, but any remark she had ready for Mercedes was cut off by the sight of the Sheriff.

"Mrs. Walker, I'm afraid I have some bad news about your husband." Sheriff Stilnski said.

From his concealed hiding place, Derek remained an unseen third party. He listened carefully as the sheriff talked to the Walker's.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your husband was found dead this afternoon."

Derek winced. He could hear the outburst from everyone within the RV. Someone had started crying hysterically, another started pacing the floor. Judging by the amount of noise, Derek expected that everyone had reached the RV before Mercedes and Stilinski. He heard the front door burst open, followed by a pair of quickly moving feet. He looked up as Mercedes rushed past him. The brief look was more than enough to see the complete anguish written on her tear stricken face.

His phone suddenly started ringing. Derek removed it from his pocket and started to make hs retreat through the park. "Yeah?"

_"Derek,"_ it was Scott. _"Stiles and I are on our way to the hospital. His dad just told us that one of the gypsies was found dead in the preserve. Apparently it looks like one of ours."_

"Yeah, they did." Derek answered. "Stilinski just informed the Walker's."

"Why them?"

"It was their dad, Scott." Derek explained. "THe dead gypsy is Kurt Walker."

_"Oh my god."_ Scott muttered.

Derek emerged from the RV park. "I'll meet you at the hospital. We need to know what killed him or we're gonna have more bodies turn up quickly."

* * *

oh my gosh! look! 2 chapters in one day! now fi I don't update in a few weeks I can be forgiven! yay!

okay, I know there was a lot of information, but I DID WARN YOU! we got a little more answers and a lot more questions. hope you're not lost. if there are any errors I apologize.


	11. The Threat

Beacon Hills General Hospital was nestled deep in town and the focus for many of Scott's trips, since his mom was a nurse in the ER. And one of the best, no competition there. Kids could brag that their parents were doctors and such, but Scott knew first hand just how amazing his mom was when she was at work. So entering through the sliding doors of the ER entrance, wasn't new to the staff on duty that night. Hardly anyone took a double glance with Stiles in tow, as both boys were in constant company of the other. Both boys made their way through the ER hallway toward one of the back doors, leading down to the morgue.

"Stiles, I think we just hit a new low." Scott said quickly.

Stiles frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Sneaking down to the morgue."

"Dude, you snuck in to get that girls scent. What's low about this?" Stiles asked.

"The fact that my mom knows about me now and I'm still sneaking around." Scott explained.

Stiles gave Scott and incredulous look and reached for the door handle. "Dude, I'm not even going to-"

Stiles suddenly jumped back as the handle turned before he touched it. The door opened from the inside. Both boys tried to move away from the door to conceal their attempt to enter it, but found it unnecessary for them. Derek stood on the other side of the door. He glanced out behind the boys quickly and moved from the doorway. Scott and Stiles quickly followed Derek through the door and into the hall.

"How did you get here before us?" Scott asked.

Derek glanced over his shoulder, but kept walking. "The RV park was closer than Stilinski's house." He answered as if it was an obvious statement.

"So how'd you get past the staff?" Stiles asked.

"Believe it or not, I'm not as noticeable as the two of you." Derek replied. He stopped at the next door.

"That's what you'd like to think."

They all turned toward the hall entrance where Sheriff Stilinski stood. His arms were folded in front of his chest, staring at them intently. Stiles swallowed nervously. IT wasn't the first time his dad had caught him in the act because of one of his cases, and it wasn't likely to be the last, but still. Every time he was caught, Stiles couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt hen he saw the look on his dad's face.

"Dad-"

"Save it, son." the Sheriff answered. "I'm not here to grill you buys."

Stiles frowned. "You...you're not mad?"

"No." he answered. "Since you boys didn't get into the morgue, we're fine."

This time, Derek frowned. "Why's that?"

Sheriff Stilinski sighed heavily. "Starlin Walker demanded that no autopsy be performed and demand the release of her husbands body immediately."

There was a moment of silence in the hall.

"What?" Stiles asked, his mind quickly running faster than it had a moment before.

"She asked for the release the day her husband died?" Scott asked.

Derek folded his arms in front of his chest. "That doesn't make any sense."

Sheriff Stilinski nodded. "This is a first for me too, but I've got a job to do."

"But we have to see the body, Sheriff." Scott pleaded. "If it was an animal attack then-"

"Scott, I understand your concern," the sheriff said. "but legally, and knowingly, I can't let you boys in there. Mrs. Walker's already signed the papers and if you go in there, I will have to arrest all of you on probable cause for destruction of evidence. As it stands, the Festival's been placed on hold until Walker's service in two days. Apparently, it's tradition."

With the exception of Derek, neither Scott nor Stiles had been arrested, though they've had plenty of close calls. And Stiles couldn't put his dad in another tough situation and risk his job. But the whole event had just become one big puzzle and the pieces were getting smaller and smaller, while the number of pieces were growing larger and larger. They needed to figure out what-or who- had attacked Kurt Walker.

"Then may've you can help us." Derek said, looking up from the ground. "You saw the body."

The Sheriff nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"What did it look like?" Derek asked.

The Sheriff paused. His pause caused great concern in each of the boys. "To be honest, it looked like one of your kind went at Walker."

Derek winced.

"I've had the photo's sent over to your boss." The Sheriff looked toward Scott. "See what he says about the marks. Not that I doubt you boys, but are you sure every one of your pack is accounted for?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, we're sure. Jackson's on vacation in New York and Isaac's on a summer trip with his French trip."

The Sheriff turned to Derek. "What about your uncle?"

Derek shrugged. "Out of town. This isn't beneath Peter, but he'll have a plan and reason. This isn't him."

"So we have another one?"

Scott shook his head. "No way. If it was another Omega, we would've caught a scent."

Derek nodded. "Exactly."

"So someone killed a gypsy, who's people hate werewolves, and is making it look like a werewolf attack." Stiles explained, putting into words what they were all thinking.

"Wait, you think someone is framing werewolves?" Stilinski asked.

"More specifically, the pack." Derek answered. "_Our_ pack."

"What would be the point?" Stilinski asked. "The gypsy's would have nothing to gain by killing their own."

Stiles frowned." What makes you think it was a gypsy?"

"Like you said, they know about their kind." he explained. "I haven't seen anything like this caused by a human. And if your pack isn't responsible, then all that remains is that one of **their **did it."

Derek was silently thinking over everything that they were learning. Kurt Walker was murdered. His body was left in a state to hint the pack was responsible. The gypsies knew about them and many wanted nothing to do with them. The only reason they remained was because Kurt had deemed it necessary to rekindle a working relationship with their kind again. What could the gypsies gain from Kurt's death. He couldn't see any winning side in the plot, not even from Jag or Fords point. Murdering their father would only put a great weight over their family, despite how both men held an obscenely large grudge against Derek's kind. And if there was supposed to b a trigger for Jag, this would make one hell of a trigger. Hell, Jag and Ford wouldn't hesitate to come after the pack if they heard about their father's death. Unless they didn't have anything to o with it. Was is possible that Starlin was more involved than her son's? Was that the reason why she released the body immediately, to keep the knowledge **from** them?

Scott turned to look at Derek. "What is it?"

"None of this makes any sense." Derek explained.

"Yeah because **any** murder we get involved in makes total sense." Stiles muttered.

Derek shook his head. "You don't get it. This is all linked, but it doesn't make sense. Not after talking with Mercedes."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked.

"Look before you boys get any further into this topic, let me suggest you do it somewhere else." the Sheriff remarked, gesturing toward the door.

"Good plan dad." Stiles said, heading toward the door.

Scott and Derek followed Stiles out into the hall. They easily passed the nurses station without a second glance from the staff and were safely outside the hospital, before continuing their conversation.

"So, what did Mercedes tell you?" Scott asked.

Derek sighed. "She and her mom predicted a fight between Jag and the pack. IT bad and bloody, and is triggered by something neither one of them can see."

"Kurt's death?" Scott asked.

"That's what I thought, but it doesn't make any sense for his son's to kill him when they have nothing to gain." Derek replied.

"Maybe they think it's worth it, if it gets them a fight against you guys?" Stiles suggested.

Derek shrugged. "Like I said, it doesn't make sense."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, well, wanna hear the real kick to the balls then?"

Derek frowned.

"Kurt's body wasn't found in town." Stiles explained. "It was found on the Preserve, right outside the house. Now, I'm not familiar with supernatural calling cards, but is there a meaning behind that?"

Derek tried not to think of another body baring any connection to his home. The though burned inside him. The killer **knew **what it would do to him. Or at least **knew **about his connection to the house. This was definitely a threat against the pack. Derek nodded slowly. "It means they know more about us than we do about them. And it ends now." He turned to leave.

"What are you going to do?" Scott asked.

"I'm gonna find out what we're dealing with." Derek answered. "And then I'm use that against Mercedes to get some answers."

There was a battle coming their way and the first casualty had been claimed. They were running out of time and had a town full of people that could end up the next casualty in a battle that had no foreseeable point or outcome that benefitted either party. They had next to know information on what they were up against, and that needed to change. And for that to change, Derek needed to stoop to an all knew low for himself. The idea made him sick, but she was the only one who could help them. Playing her could be the only way to save all their lives.

* * *

look an update! sorry for the short chapter, I hope it isn't confusing. If it is, don't worry I'll explain everything in upcoming chapters. if you have theories, by all means tell me, I love hearing what you think. I'll update as soon as I can.

And yes, Derek will learn what she is.

PLEASE REVIEW!


	12. The Will

It was unbelievable, unthinkable. How could he do this to her? How could he betray her like this. What in the hell was he thinking? Naming her the head of the caravan? Mercedes wanted to say that it was all a joke, but the legal ledger in her trembling hands said anything but. The truth was right there, right in front of her in black and white.

First Council to disbanned upon death. Instated New Council as followed:

Council Head: Mercedes Walker

First Council Advisor: Stephan Hills

Second Council Advisor: Holly Walker

Council Secretary: Luke Dashwood

Council Treasurer: Colten Whittiker

Second Counsil to Disbanned Upon Death. Instated New Council as Followed:

Council Head: Lincoln Walker

First Coucnil Advisor: Xavier Greenburg

Second Council Advisor: Tia Juniper

Second Council Secretary: Francis Du Bois

No matter how any times she wanted to say it was a dream, the reality of yesterday came crashing back down. Her vision blurred with her quick forming tears. Mercedes tossed the document to the side not caring where it had landed, and buried her face into her hands. How could he do this to her? He knew her apprehension about staying with the caravan. He **knew** her feelings toward remaining on the council. And he bloody **knew** that no one on the prior council's would approve of the disbandment and reinstatements.

Mercedes inhaled deeply and lowered her hands. She leaned against the back of her sofa and stared up at the ceiling. With her father's death, the summer festival was placed on hold to mourn him. Until tomorrow afternoon, after his burial, no one in the caravan would work. And once the funeral had passed, the festival would resume, except for her family. She closed her eyes. _Council Head._ She was in charge now. She was in command of the caravan now. Everything fell to her now. Her choice of cities, of rules, of legal permits, and civil laws. A semi normal appearing life in some aspects.

She had to tell everyone. Worse, she **needed** to tell everyone. They were all expecting to hear what Kurt had willed in his death. His first, and only rule that was read, was that Mercedes was to oversee the remainder of his Will. And apparently it included the caravan's future as well. She had no doubt that several of the former First Council would have no trouble stepping down. Many of them had taken up their position with a few years of each other. It seemed only natural to disband together as well. But the Second Council, now there was a confrontation that Mercedes knew would cause a problem. Her father had threatened Jag about removing him from the council, now he was. And removing Ford as well. Neither one of her brother's were going to handle this well, in fact they would handle it worse than herself.

Mercedes sighed heavily. "Might as well get this over with." She pushed herself off the sofa and onto her feet. She grabbed the Will and slipped in into the back pocket of her black jeans. She walked down the hall toward Bentley's bedroom, pausing only to pick up a large clip to hold up her hair, and quietly opened the door. Inside the bedroom was dark, save for the nightlight in the corner. From the doorway, Mercedes could make out Bentley's form underneath one of the blankets.

_Dead to the world._ Mercedes smiled. _Lucky squirt._ She closed the door behind her and made her way out of the trailer.

Locking the door on her exit, she headed toward Starlin's RV. Much to Mercedes' disgust, Starlin was playing the heartbroken widow perfectly. Not two seconds after the Sheriff had explained Kurt's death, Starlin had collapsed into a fit of tears. The Sheriff had easily believed her, but everyone who knew Starlin, who knew her character, knew she wasn't feeling a thing about her husband. Hell, the two had been living in separate RV's for as long as Mercedes could remember. She and Lincoln had lived with their father while Jag and Ford lived with Starlin, until they were five when Kurt took them all in. Starlin was a selfish cold heart bitch that didn't give a shit about anyone's needs but her own. She didn't feel a thing about Kurt, she only cared about the attention she received now.

She weaved through the RV's trying not to see all the black strung up. Tradition. Some times she just hated tradition. Until her father's service, there was nothing to be done. The festival was on hold and the entire caravan would be in black until they went back to work. Her family would wear black for longer. Her family was already constantly the topic of gossip through the caravan. Just once, Mercedes wanted them to mind their damn business and stay out of hers. But now everything was her business; thanks to her father. Her feet burned against the hot pavement. Any other day, Mercedes would have taken the time to put her shoes on, but today, she just wanted to feeling something-anything, other than the pain in her heart.

Starlin was seated outside her RV, talking with Ivan Taylor; a former hunter. She wore a long black skirt with a black tank top. Her dark hair hung loose along her shoulders. Ivan talked as Mercedes approached. Starlin looked like the grieving widow, but Mercedes could see how her eyes drifted down Ivan's body when he wasn't looking. It was disgusting; not a widow twenty-four hours, and already she was stalking a new conquest. Well that was one thing in Mercedes' power that she could change.

Ivan looked up as Mercedes joined them. He stood up quickly. "Mercedes."

Mercedes managed a small smile. "Ivan."

"I came to give your family my condolences." Ivan explained. "Kurt was...well, nothing I say will do him justice."

"Thank you." she answered. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with-"

"Of course." Ivan said quickly. "Of course. I'll leave you two alone now." Ivan turned and slowly headed around the corner, going off on his business.

Mercedes turned to Starlin, who's demeanor changed instantly. "I assume there's a point to your visit."

Mercedes bit back a much desired comment. "I read the will."

The response must not have been what Starlin was expecting, given the lack of response that Mercedes received. Starlin rose from her chair and walked toward the door to her RV, without a second glance toward Mercedes. She opened the door to her RV and walked up the steps. Mercedes stood where she was, wondering whether to make a big spectacle of her discovery, or whether to keep it private. In complete honesty, Starlin was one who enjoyed spectacles, especially when she was the center of attention. It wouldn't change the fact that the entire caravan would hear about it sooner or later. And if Starlin didn't want to hear her...well that was too damn bad, because there was plenty that Mercedes wanted to say. And damn it to hell she was going to say it all now.

Mercedes stalked to the door and grabbed Starlin by the arm. She dragged the woman down the steps, all but throwing her to the ground. Mercedes slammed the door shut and turned her attention to Starlin.

"What the hell are you doing?" Starlin demanded from the ground. Her dark eyes burned at Mercedes.

Mercedes pointed her finger toward Starlin. "You are going to listen to me."

Starlin spat a bitter laugh. "The hell I will. You rank lower than me in this hierarchy system, brat."

"Not anymore." Mercedes answered sharply. "He named me First Council Head."

Starlin froze in terror. All color vanished within seconds. She shook her head slowly. "That's not possible."

Mercedes reached into her back pocket and pulled out the document. She tossed it down to Starlin. It landed a few feet from the woman. "Take a look for yourself."

Starlin scrambled out for the will, nearly ripping it in half. Mercedes watched Starlin closely over the following seconds. The will tumbled from Starlin's hands, back onto the ground. Mercedes watched as all of Starlin's expectations shattered.

"What's going on?" Jag asked, stepping down from the RV. Ford stood behind him, watching curiously.

"Your mother just lost her status." Mercedes answered. She turned back toward him. "I've been named council head."

Jag's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

"It's true." Starlin muttered from the ground. "The bitch is in command." She looked up to Jag. "You and your brother are off the council."

Jag's eyes snapped back to Mercedes.

"Yeah, that's right." Mercedes replied, her voice dripping with venom. "I'm the bitch in charge. Meaning I am the one who makes the riles and you follow them."

Jag seethed heavily as he stared at Mercedes. He clenched his hands into tight fists, trying to control the rage he felt inside. Mercedes stood her ground, watching Jag carefully. It was times just as this where it was often forgotten that Ford was the youngest, and not Mercedes. Ford broke the unhealthy silence and stepped out of the RV, taking his place beside his younger brother.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, I want you all to listen well." Mercedes explained. "Kurt put up with all your bullshit for a lot longer than he needed to. He loved you all as his family and that was his choice. HE carried your disgrace every day of his life and never once complained. I. WILL. NOT. Your shit ends **now**. When I give orders, you **will** follow them or find yourself a new home." She turned her cold eyes toward Starlin. "You will get off that high horse, because as of right now, you don't have any status but caravan whore and so help me God if you keep that habit going; I will not-"

"Aren't you the little hypocrite." Jag muttered.

Mercedes turned on Jag. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jag stepped toward Mercedes. "How many times have you been seen in that mutts company? Everyday since we got here? Right? Raced him the first day, right?"

"That has nothing to do with-"

"You were ready to fuck him right there on the side of the road, weren't you?" Jag demanded. "Five years and you're still the same whore you were back them with **him**!"

What followed next came without hesitation of speed and brutality. From the moment Jag's sentence came to an end, Mercedes claws extended quickly. She threw out her hand, racking her claws across his cheek. Her white claws ripped through Jag's flesh, leaving a brutal stream of blood freely flowing down his face. Her nails dripped in blood, leaving small droplets on the ground below her hand. Her eyes flashed a dangerous, volatile purple hue. Her chest heaved in fury as she stared at him.

Jag slowly lifted his eyes toward Mercedes. His own eyes shifted to a vibrant green. His blenched fists tightened immediately and he threw himself at Mercedes. He slammed into Mercedes body, driving her to the ground on her back. Mercedes quickly flipped him over her, and onto the concrete. She rolled onto her knees and hissed viciously. Jag landed on his feet and turned around. A single, large quill emerged from his skin, protruding much like a large thorn. Jag rushed for Mercedes and she did the same.

"Enough!" Lincoln caught Mercedes around the neck and pulled her back. Ford took Jag around the middle and dragged him away. Lincoln dragged Mercedes from the RV and threw her toward the ground. Mercedes staggered a few steps, but never fell. She turned around to face her brother. "You really want to start a fight now? Today? When dad's been gone for a day? I'm sure he'd be proud of you!"

"I'm not going to put of with anymore of Jag's shit!" Mercedes yelled.

"Then be the adult!" Lincoln replied. "You know he's goading you into the fight and you're falling right into his trap. Go calm down! We can talk after you both cool off."

Mercedes snorted bitterly. "Fine. Whatever." she turned and stalked back toward her RV.

Her claws retracted back into the nail beds, leaving only her finger tips as any indication of her fight with Jag. She stomped through the park, too furious to feel the pain in her feel or in her chest. Several locks of hair had tumbled from her clip, casting a brief respite of shade from the blaring sunshine. Instead of brushing the hair from her vision, Mercedes simply removed the clip, allowing the entire contents tumble freely down her back. She stormed through the park, wiping the stray, furious tears that managed to escape.

She came around the final corner, coming up on her trailer and came to a dead stop. The trailer door was wide open with Bentley sitting on the steps. His blond hair stuck up in places from sleep, still in his pajamas, his feet were bare and tucked up near his body on the final step. To his left stood Derek, leaning against the open door.

Mercedes stormed toward the trailer, now more enraged than ever. "Bentley Kurtis Walker, get inside the trailer right now."

Bentley's head immediately turned toward the sound of his mother's voice. He stood up from the steps and rushed inside the trailer, closing the door behind him. Derek pushed himself off the trailer and straightened himself. He caught the scent of the blood on her fingers.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing here?" Mercedes demanded. She marched up to Derek and stopped just inches from him. "Do you not understand what is happening now?"

"I heard the announcement from here." Derek answered coolly. "I'd offer my congratulations, but-"

"Save it." she snapped back.

"That's why I didn't give it." Derek replied.

Mercedes let her nails extend. "I'll ask you once more, what are you doing here?"

Derek's eyes drifted down to her bloody nails, but ignored the blatant threat. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't." Mercedes answered. Her nails retracted into her bed and she folded her arms. "Now leave."

"Someone from your caravan was killed and you're going to ignore it?" Derek asked.

"Pack business is dealt by the Second Council." Mercedes informed. "Whatever you have to say, say it to Lincoln. However, to avoid a confrontation, I would call him first."

"Looks like you're adjusting pretty well." Derek said.

Mercedes eyes flashed quickly. She turned from Derek and opened the trailer door. "It's time you left. And if you come near my son again, Jag won' the your only concern."

Derek stood where he was, watching as Mercedes walked up into her trailer. She was right, he was pushing his luck with these people, especially with everything that had happened. "I'm sorry about your father."

Mercedes stopped in the doorway of her trailer, frozen at Derek's words. In a split second, all her anger bled away, leaving nothing but grief and pain in its wake. Her hand, still gripping the door, trembled and shook. The sight of her trailer blurred as her eyes welled up with unshed tears. Mercedes closed her eyes tightly and slammed the door behind her. She stood in front of it for a moment, trying to regain control of herself, but it was far too late. her knees gave way, sending her to the floor. She leaned against the door as she finally broke down. She pulled her legs up to her chest and buried her face into her knees. Mercedes cried helplessly, finally releasing all her pent up remorse. He was gone. He was really and truly gone forever.

* * *

look another chapter! I hope it wasn't too boring. don't worry, everything will make sense I promise!


	13. Illusions and Truth

Scott stood in the exam room of the vet clinic with a broom in his hands. He moved around the room, sweeping the floor just a few minutes from closing time. Deaton was just down the hall closing up his office. Since the festival had closed that day, everyone had the idea to drop their pets off at the clinic, swarming both of them for the entire day. In the brief break about fifteen minutes before closing Deaton had told Scott to turn the sign over to keep any last minute visitors from arriving. The day had been insane.

Scott picked up the dust pan and swept the pile inside. He made his way to the garbage can just as he heard a car pull up in the parking lot. He set the broom and pan aside and walked toward the front. Scott stood in the doorway as Sheriff Stilinski and Stiles came to the front door. Stiles grabbed the door and pulled, only to find it locked. The Sheriff tapped on the window.

Scott walked to the door and unlocked it.

Stiles pulled it open, setting the bell off. "Dude, we got the photos!"

Scott frowned. "What photos?"

Stiles opened his mouth, but his dad covered it with his hand. "**I** have the crime scene photos of Kurt Walker. Is your boss still in?"

"Scott, was that the bell?" Deaton called. A moment later, he stepped into the lobby. His eyes widened at the guests. "Sheriff. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like your opinion on our most recent attack, Dr. Deaton." the Sheriff explained.

Deaton folded his arms in front of his chest and nodded. "I'll do what I can."

The Sheriff nodded and held out a manila folder. "Crime scene photos of Mr. Walker."

Deaton took the folder and slowly opened it. "How's the family doing?"

The Sheriff shook his head. "Honestly Doc, I have no idea. Looked like they weren't really sure how to act."

Deaton nodded slowly and looked over the first picture.

"Scott said all his pack was accounted for at the time of the attack." he continued.

Deaton turned toward Scott. "Any traces of an Omega?"

Scott shook his head. "No. Nothing."

Deaton turned the photo over, showing it to Scott. Stiles quickly grew pale and turned away. Scott couldn't look away, not from this. He'd never met Kurt, but he'd seen plenty of attacks in the past few years to know what he was looking at. It was a werewolf attack. Kurt's body had been badly mauled by a werewolf. Scott couldn't even tell what Kurt looked like from the mauling. Whoever did this put plenty of rage into the attack. They didn't want Kurt to survive.

"What can you make of this, Scott?" Deaton asked.

Scott swallowed. "There's a lot of rage in it. The killer didn't want Kurt to live."

"And the wounds?"

He looked at them closely. There was no denying it, they were wolf marks. "It looks like a wolf."

"It would appear so." Deaton said. He turned the photo over and searched through the others.

The Sheriff sighed. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

Stiles shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. If its a werewolf, then you guys should've picked up a scent." He started pacing around the lobby. Nothing was making sense.

"Okay, so what is there that you can't smell?" the Sheriff asked.

Scott turned toward Stiles. "Mercedes. I wouldn't sense her or her son."

"Bentley's half werewolf." Stiles stated. "He could've done it."

Scott shook his head. "There's no way it was him. Derek was watching them the entire day."

The Sheriff's brows shit up. "You had Derek Hale watching them? What the hell were you thinking?"

"He was trusting his instincts." Derek said. The door eased closed behind him. Several printed papers from the bestiary were in his hand.

Scott and Stiles looked at the papers. "You find out what they are?"

Derek nodded." Ad why we can't sense them."

Stile shrugged. "So, what are they?"

Derek held out the papers. "Mercedes is a siren."

Stiles' eyes widened. He snatched the papers from Derek's hand. "Seriously?"

The Sheriff shrugged. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Neither Scott nor I can sense her." Derek explained.

"I'm not surprised." Stiles said, staring at the paper. "Siren's originated from the water-"

"But even water has a scent." Scott stated.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah I know."

"Well what else does it say about them?" the Sheriff asked.

"Well in the _Odyssey_, Siren's were these beautiful women who lured unsuspecting ships to their deaths just by their voices." Stiles explained. "Looking back to the club, that explains a few things."

"More than a few things." Scott said. He looked over Stiles shoulder. "Says here that it's not just their voice, but their entire body is used to lure their prey. That's why everyone at the club couldn't take their eyes off her."

"She doesn't have control over it." Derek explained, crossing his arms.

"Does it say anything about how they kill?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. But it does say that if threatened a Siren will defend itself. And they're fast." He lowered the papers.

"So it could've been the boy?" the Sheriff asked.

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know, dad. I mean, if Scott and Derek couldn't find any werewolf scents in town and a werewolf killed Walker...the pieces would match up, but it doesn't make sense."

"That's because it wasn't a werewolf that killed Kurt Walker." Deaton said, finally speaking up.

All eyes turned to the veterinary, who was seated at the front desk ,still reviewing the photographs of the scene. They were laid out across the desk while he looked them over.

"What do you mean it wasn't a werewolf?" the Sheriff asked.

Deaton looked up. "Kurt wasn't killed by a werewolf, Sheriff. He was killed by someone else."

"A Siren?" he asked.

Deaton shook his head. "No. Siren claws are more finer than werewolf claws. They're made for clean cuts. The markings are Kurt's body are large and heavily jagged. These were made by someone who _wanted_ us to believe that werewolves did this. The weapon itself was blunt, which means it took some force to cause them."

The Sheriff frowned. "Why would they want to frame the pack?"

"They don't like werewolves." Stiles answered with a shrug. "Some vendetta things that they never explained."

"Okay? Well then, which one would want to frame you?" he continued.

"Human or supernatural?" Stiles asked. "Cause the Walker brother's weren't too cozy with Scott and Derek."

"They wouldn't kill their dad over this." Scott said. He looked over toward Derek, looking for a lead.

Derek simply shrugged.

The Sheriff sighed heavily. "Well that's just great. Plenty of theories and no definite culprit." He looked over at the boys. "You guys certainly keep me on my toes."

"Sorry Sheriff." Scott said.

"Don't worry about it Scott." the Sheriff answered. "Come on Stiles."

Stiles frowned. "What that's it?"

"There's really nothing more to do, Stiles." Deaton explained. "We cleared the pack of killing Kurt, that's more than enough."

"Not enough for everyone." Derek mentioned. He turned to the Sheriff. "Does his family know the specifics of the attack? Did they see the body?"

The Sheriff nodded. "No one but the wife. She identified the body and left."

"I can't identify what exactly killed him through the pictures, Sheriff." Deaton explained. "But if i could view the body-"

"I can't do that, Doctor Deaton." the Sheriff answered. "Walker's body was immediately released on the request of his wife and his service is tomorrow. They're burying him at the cemetery tomorrow morning."

Deaton nodded and gathered the papers into the folder. "I understand. Good night Sheriff."

The Sheriff nodded. "Good night doc. Scott. Derek."

"Night Sheriff." Scott called.

The Sheriff retrieved the photos and exited the clinic.

Stiles followed behind him, still reading the papers Derek had brougth with him. "I'm gonna do some more research, see what else I can dig up on Siren's."

Deaton rose from his chair. "Well, Scott, I'll see you tomorrow. Derek. Good night."

Derek nodded.

"Night Deaton." Scott said.

Deaton walked out of the lobby and toward his office, leaving Scott and Derek in the lobby.

Scott turned to Derek. The former alpha was staring at the ground on the far side of the lobby, deep in thought. "What is it?"

"We're still missing something in this." Derek answered shortly.

Scott nodded. "Yeah a suspect."

Derek shook his head. "No. It's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think it's a little convenient that the caravan leader was killed **here**? On their first festival dealing with werewolves?" Derek asked.

Scott nodded slowly.

"And the immediate burial?" Derek continued. "I mean, you'd think that the family would **want** to know who killed him? Instead, they're burying him the first chance they get."

"But if they're looking for a confrontation, this would be the reason for it." Scott stated.

"So why wouldn't they tell everyone in the caravan?" Derek asked.

"So you think they're hiding something." Scott said.

Derek nodded. "I think they're hiding a lot."

"So we talk to Mercedes." Scott suggested. "She'll talk to us."

Derek shook his head. "No. Not anymore."

Scott frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The caravan is organized and run by councilmembers. Two council. One to deal with the outside world and one to deal with ours. Mercedes was head of the second council **until** her father's death. His will reorganized both councils. Mercedes is now the leader of the entire caravan, she won't talk to us." Derek explained.

"Then who was named second council leader?"

"Her brother Lincoln."

"Will he talk to use?" Scott asked.

Derek shook his head. "Not likely."

Scott sighed in defeat. "So we're back at square one."

"Not necessarily."

Scott frowned.

"I'm gonna talk to Mercedes." Derek explained.

"You just said-"

"I know." Derek replied. "But I'm not gonna talk to her at the RV park. If I can get to her in the open, I might have a chance."

"you think you can do that?" Scott asked. "The only chance you'd have would be the funeral and I'm pretty sure the pack's not invited."

"Just leave it to me." Derek said. He turned and headed for the door.

"What happened to following the Alpha?" Scott called.

Derek smirked and looked back at Scott. "That's why I'm going, Scott. So you can still lead."


End file.
